


Shades of Winter

by dtrinity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Past Violence, Polyandry, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-10-07 19:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17371604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtrinity/pseuds/dtrinity
Summary: Hermione Granger is more than the Muggleborn that she thought herself to be, and her new identity presents its own challenges as she navigates the second Wizarding War. Regardless of who she is and who she has on her side, her mission hasn't changed. She will do whatever is necessary to stop the Dark Lord.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I intend for this to be rated E; everything within that category is fair game (to include any variety of citrus-y scenes, since I prefer them in my stories, violence, swearing, etc.). If you’re underage or that type of story doesn’t interest you, please press the back button to exit. 
> 
> This will be AU with elements of canon, beginning at the end of GoF. Based on certain scenes that I’ve already begun thinking up, I want this to go through DH; we’ll see if the characters cooperate. Either way, it will be long. There may be a few canon pairings, but I haven’t decided which ones yet. 
> 
> As graduate school is getting ready to pick up for my final semester, updates may be a little sporadic initially. I have some chapters already written, edited, and/or outlined, but it’s a pretty small buffer. Hopefully you’ll like it enough to be patient with me. On that note, on with the show!

It was too quiet. The scream and resounding red flare that had shot into the air had left the families and students sitting in the stands outside the maze of the Triwizard Tournament’s final task shifting in restlessness and unease. Hermione had been placed under a magical sleep for the second task, so she could only imagine how similar this was now. All they could do was watch and wait.

Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were both being floated, unconscious, out of the maze. Although it sent many Hogwarts students into a frenzy of excitement knowing that their school had won, it only caused increased anxiety to rise in Hermione’s chest. Tuning out the energetic conversation next to her between Ron and his family, Hermione focused steadily on the entrance of the maze. They had prepared Harry as best they could in advance, but would it be enough? What obstacles resided in that labyrinth that had the ability to take out Fleur and Viktor?

So focused was she on where Harry could be in the maze and what he could be facing, that at first she was able to ignore the tingling in her left arm. As minutes passed, the tingling grew into an insistent itch that Hermione scratched through the sleeve of her thin jumper. Ron looked at her in mild curiosity, but shrugged it off and turned back to Bill when she shook her head in silent communication that she was fine. Everything was not fine, however, when a sharp, burning pain erupted from the irritated skin on her forearm. Hermione released a pained hiss as she clutched her arm to her chest. A gut feeling told her that something was off. Hermione scanned the crowd standing in the clearing before the maze where the champions had initially gathered, and found Madam Pomfrey tending to the resuscitated Beaubaxtons champion.

“Is everything alright, Hermione?” Mrs. Weasley asked from across Ron. While her face did not express the same warmth that it had prior to Skeeter’s slanderous article, it had certainly improved from the cool disapproval evident with her Easter package.

“I’m fine,” Hermione replied through clenched teeth. The burning was increasing in intensity and she wondered what she had gotten into that would cause such a reaction. Getting to her feet, Hermione nearly fell to her knees on the stairs when another flaming pulse shot through her arm. She began to focus on her breathing to manage the pain, counting each second to measure the air coming in and out. 

She was mere feet from the mediwitch when a third pulse caused her vision to blacken which, in turn, lead to her stumbling into someone waiting in the crowd awaiting the return of the final champions.

“S-sorry,” Hermione gritted out through tightly clenched teeth, her breathing becoming quite labored. She blinked rapidly to encourage the return of her spotty vision. “I n-need…”

“To watch where you’re going, Miss Granger,” came the scathing reply. Hermione flinched, recognizing the voice of Hogwarts’ least sympathetic professor. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said again. She started to stumble off in the direction she last saw Madam Pomfrey. A firm hand on her upper arm halted her progress and she distantly heard Professor Snape call for the mediwitch.

“Miss Granger,” Madam Pomfrey said, tilting the young witch’s head up to begin her examination. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s my arm,” she ground out. “There’s something…I don’t know…”

“Let’s take a look, then,” she said in a no nonsense tone. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Her arm trembled as she held it out from her body, slowly pulling the material up the skin of her oversensitive forearm. When she had it to her elbow, she stopped and stared at the indistinct dark patch that pulsed in time with her pain. Just as another wave hit, she watched with horror as the shape momentarily sharpened before fading back to an amorphous, if slightly darker, blur. No…it’s not possible…

“Poppy, I’ll take care of Miss Granger from here,” Professor Snape said sharply. Ignoring the older woman’s protests, he tightened his grip on her arm and began to drag her from the Quidditch pitch and back toward the school. No words passed between them nor did he slow his pace as Hermione suffered in denial from the image now branded in her mind. A brand…

Before she knew it, Professor Snape was throwing open the door to his dungeon office and throwing her into the chair set before his desk. He quickly pulled his wand and pointed it steadily at her, his black eyes glacial in their fury. “Who are you?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in fear at the wrathful face of her Potions professor. “P-professor, I’m Hermione Gra-…”

“Muggleborn Hermione Granger would not have that mark on her arm!” Professor Snape interrupted savagely. “Are you the one responsible for putting Potter’s name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“No! P-professor…” Hermione cried. Before she could say another word, the sharpest pain she’d felt that night doubled her over and stole her breath. She noted absently that Professor Snape had clutched his own arm, his jaw tightening. 

Snape glared at the girl cowering in front of him, noting her reactions to the summons he, himself, had not felt in nearly 15 years. He ignored the fear rising in his chest at what that call would mean for him when he noted that the witch claiming to be Hermione Granger started to shake and whimper. With one hand clutched to her head and her left arm pressed tightly to her chest, Snape watched as tears fell down her cheeks from eyes squeezed tightly shut. She was shaking her head slowly from one side to the other, murmuring strangled denials under her breath as her features began to shift. The Dark Mark, now clearly discernable on her inner arm, was almost visibly beating in time with what he assumed was her heart rate. The Dark Lord had never been one to suffer disguises when he called the Death Eaters to his side, so whatever this woman was hiding, it would soon be revealed to him.

Her hair was the most obvious change, as a wave of platinum blonde silk flowed in a straightened sheet from the crown of her head to the middle of her back, erasing all signs of bushy, brown curls. He couldn’t tell as well from her position sitting in a chair, but he thought that her clothes had shifted to fit her body differently. The hem of her trousers had not shifted, so her height must not have noticeably changed. Her skin tone evened out to a uniform pale color, different from the golden shade it held before. The quaking of her shoulders was slowing down and he watched as she raised her head and opened a pair of cerulean blue eyes that he never thought to see again. She gave a slow blink of confusion, her manicured hands still holding her head as she whispered in pained confusion, “Severus…?”

He dropped his wand without a thought and rushed forward to catch the young witch as she slumped forward in unconsciousness. He gently lowered her head to the floor, brushing aside the fine strands that had fallen across her face. His breathing was rapidly increasing, his dark eyes wide with incomprehension. She had died! It was not possible for her to be here…now…and so young…? But Dumbledore…

“Severus!” an urgent call came, the door to his office slamming open once more. “You must come. Harry…Severus, what happened?” In his shock, Severus Snape could not recall the last time he saw the Headmaster’s face look so grave. The older wizard looked at the younger and knew that an explanation would be forthcoming, but not now. “Dobby?”

A crack of Apparition brought the house-elf to the crowded office. “Yes, Headmaster, sir?”

Albus Dumbledore waved a hand down to the fallen witch and nodded his head. “Would you please escort Miss Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?”

Dobby did a double take at seeing his former mistress lying on the floor. Tears pooled in his bulbous eyes. “Missy Maia?” The little elf stepped forward hesitatingly, before grabbing her hand and Disapparating them both.

“Severus, if you would? Please bring your supply of Veritaserum. It seems that our imposter has finally made his move…”

Inside, Severus Snape was screaming every profanity he could think of (and with years of service to the Dark Lord, his vocabulary was vast). Outwardly, he put on a blank mask and nodded his head in silent assent. Gathering the requested supplies, he quickly followed the Headmaster out of his office, resolved to have his questions answered the moment this matter was taken care of.

* * *

She knew that she wasn’t conscious, but that didn’t make her any less aware of what was happening to her. Years of lost memories were fighting for dominance in her head, all eager to refill her now unshielded mind. 

Her memories as Hermione Granger temporarily fell under the onslaught of thought and emotion. Those memories that had been part of her mind the longest came to her first. She’d grown up as the second born, pureblooded daughter of Abraxas and Delphine Malfoy, younger sister to Lucius Malfoy. Every lesson in manners and deportment ran through her head, memories of one hex after another being sent her way for each mistake until she could effortlessly give the appearance of a perfectly dutiful, pureblooded female. She recalled her excitement at finally getting her letter to Hogwarts, its offer of escape long overdue to her beleaguered mind, and the pointed “reminder” from her father on which house she had better be sorted. Abraxas Malfoy had left a mark that had not faded for weeks, with the promise of something far more permanent should she disappoint him. The brief moment of hope and joy that flared in her chest at the chance for freedom when the Sorting Hat silently told her that red and gold were her true colors were smothered by nearly staggering disappointment when she requested to be placed in Slytherin instead. In her nearly 12 year-old mind, she did not believe she would survive the backlash promised by any other choice.

She remembered Severus Snape and Lily Evans, her first true friends once she was away from her family; the Slytherin boy had been the source of her introduction to the muggleborn witch. Lucius, already a prefect in his Fifth Year when she came, had ignored her associations at first, thinking them to be no more than a rebellious stage. The trio had received far more trouble from the meddlesome “marauders,” as the quartet had dubbed themselves, than the Slytherins, at least until the end of Third Year. With Lucius graduating from Hogwarts, he had designated a couple of the younger Slytherins to keep an eye on his beloved sister. Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange, both finishing their Fifth Year, had been deemed her chaperones in his absence. The bastards rarely let her out of their sight.

Although Lily didn’t fully understand it, she was accepting that Maia could not meet with her in public as often as she once did. Lily had more than once listened as her poorly sorted friend raved about the injustices committed against pureblooded women all in the name of family honor. It was she that held Maia as she cried in her Fifth Year upon learning that she was contracted to marry Antonin Dolohov upon the completion of her studies. It was Lily who pointed out that what Maia had seen as inevitable could be put off for a few more years if the latter continued her education; the additional delay would give them more time to find a way to break her betrothal. Both had agreed, then, that they would apply for apprenticeships into the Healing program at St. Mungo’s. The world outside of Hogwarts was growing darker and more dangerous, and they both felt these skills would be much needed in the coming years.

Severus dove into his studies with the appointment of Maia’s new chaperones. It was often implied that he had much to make up for, given his inferior blood. It concerned both Maia and Lily to see his growing connections with some of the darker members of the Slytherin house. Their Fifth Year was particularly stressful on their already tenuous friendship. Lily, ever the brash lion, stubbornly refused to forgive him when he casually threw out the racial slur against her blood status. Although Maia knew that he had only spoken in anger and embarrassment for the harassment suffered by Potter and Black, he wanted nothing to do with her following Lily’s rejection of his apology. Both girls had wept at the loss of their friend.

The summer before her final year at Hogwarts was one of the worst in Maia’s recovering memory. Her brother, who undoubtedly had his faults but truly loved his sister, had taken the Dark Mark. Her father had been providing financial support to the Dark Lord’s campaign for several years and staunchly approved of the decision made by his son and heir, seeing his actions as proof of his commitment to preserving the old ways of the wizarding aristocracy. While staying with the Malfoys that summer, the Dark Lord had cast a favorable eye to Maia, who had grown into a classic beauty, and put forth the command (delivered as a non-negotiable suggestion) that she join him following her graduation the following year. She knew that neither her father nor her brother would defend her against accepting this “honor,” for truly, they saw her favor with the Dark Lord as a way for the Malfoy family to rapidly rise above their peers in power and prestige.

Maia knew that Lily had spoken to the Headmaster that year about the predicament in which she found herself, for he approached her shortly before she departed for the winter holidays. As she was of age, he discussed at length the special situation in which she found herself and the immense help she could be, if amenable to his plan. In short, Albus Dumbledore had asked Maia Malfoy, the perfect, pureblooded princess of Slytherin, to join the ranks of Death Eaters as a spy for his resistance group, the Order of the Phoenix.

The young witch was more than afraid of what would happen to her should she be found out. She had been the one to care for her brother the previous summer after his first failure for Lord Voldemort. She knew, without a doubt, that the consequences for betraying him would be far worse for her if she were discovered, especially given his preference and intended plans for her. It was the knowledge given to her by Albus Dumbledore that her one remaining friend, Lily Evans, had already agreed to fight in the Order that sealed the deal for her. She would not lose another friend, her chosen family, if there was anything she could do to prevent it. Ever the quick study, Maia spent the remainder of her Seventh Year in private lessons to learn Occlumency directly from Albus Dumbledore, himself. She had learned the art of Legilimancy in secret with Lily, both having decided that it would be better to have skills in both techniques. The latter could prove a powerful weapon, if used correctly, and could buy her time to escape an unwanted situation, if it arose.

The last few years of her life prior to her rebirth were filled with deceit. She had been able to put off the fulfillment of her contract to Dolohov by order of the Dark Lord, who had permitted her request to enlist in a Healer’s apprenticeship with some mild amusement. She knew that he had no intention of letting her fulfill her betrothal contract, though even that was preferable to her over the plans she spent many nights imagining in horror. Although the Dark Lord was too busy at the time to fulfill his promise, it was well known among inner circle that Maia Malfoy was otherwise spoken for. It angered Antonin Dolohov to no end that she had managed to elude him, at least for a time. 

As important as she was to their shared master, she was kept out of the most dangerous raids but still included in every meeting. It disgusted her to see the acts that the Death Eaters reveled in, and it was during these “entertainments” that her mask was put sorely to test. The rape, torture, and murder committed in front of her were enough to age her beyond her years. Not that she was any stranger to violence.

The young Malfoy knew that one day she would have to answer for her own crimes. One did not get the highly sought Dark Mark without first demonstrating one’s loyalty to the cause. More than once she had been called on in meetings to dispense “justice” to Muggles and Muggleborns for their crimes against the wizarding world. She refused to torture, no matter how hard her brother’s sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange, goaded her. The cold façade she assumed when called to action as she efficiently dispensed the Killing Curse had earned her the nickname Belle Morte, for her icy beauty was the last thing her victims saw before greeting death.

Despite the deaths, which Maia could only justify to herself as being a mercy in comparison to what would happen to her victims if she refused to act, she was invaluable to the Order; her intelligence was key to preventing more than one massacre of Order members and Muggles alike. She was careful never to reveal herself to the Order, always disguising herself as someone else through the combined use of human transfiguration and Polyjuice potion. Dumbledore had maintained that her identity, known only by Lily Potter (Maia quite enjoyed ribbing her friend about that development) and himself, must remain uncompromised. Even in those dark times, it saddened her to see just how happy other members of the Order managed to be. She could never grow close to them, never explore new relationships with them, and never reveal to them that the girl that many of them had gone to school with and despised for her House and her family, was on their side.

There were two bright spots in that last year: her godson, Harry Potter, and her nephew, Draco. Lily confessed that she had to get James marvelously, black out drunk to get him to agree to her as Harry’s godmother. Once written and sworn on his magic, it was a done deal. She never got to visit the way she wanted to, but the few clandestine playdates and multitude of letters were just enough to assuage her loneliness and guilt. She knew that Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, had gifted him with a broom for his first birthday. Not to be outdone, she had sent an autographed jersey from Puddlemere United (James’ lifelong team) that would grow as Harry did. It was charmed so that the colors and signatures would never fade nor the fabric ever tear. Lily had filled a letter with details on the exuberance demonstrated by James when the gift came by owl. He had said that there was no reason to keep her identity a secret, for she obviously had excellent taste. The level of his intoxication that night ensured that he did not recall who was designated his son’s godmother and Lily refused to share where she hid the legal documentation. It made Maia smile and fed her secret hope that one day she would be accepted by those she was fighting with and for. 

The birth of Draco was widely celebrated by the Malfoy family. Narcissa had much trouble conceiving and holding a pregnancy to term and it was Maia that stayed by her side and cared for her when she was confined to bed rest. The Healer that attended Narcissa in Draco’s delivery had stated that there would be no other children for the Malfoy couple, so it went without question that the newest Malfoy heir was doted upon. Maia could see that Lucius and Narcissa spoiled him and he learned quickly how to use it to his advantage. Trying to prevent the ego and sense of entitlement that she could foresee in his future, Maia showed him love and support while giving him a healthy dose of the word, “no.” She secretly hoped that when this war was over, and the Dark Lord was gone, she could introduce Draco to Harry. It was with that mind that she bought a training broom for him for his first birthday.

The beginning of her final memories were of a day playing with her year-old nephew on the Persian carpet of the drawing room. He was smiling widely at her and she delighted in bringing forth his toothy grin with the toys she made fly just out of reach. Narcissa was sitting nearby taking tea, watching contently as her younger sister-in-law entertained her son. The floo had activated and an agitated Severus Snape had emerged, asking (or demanding, as it came across) to speak with Maia alone.

It had been many years since they had given more than a nod of acknowledgment to each other at the revels required by their shared master. With a harsh slash of his wand, Severus erected a spell of his own making to keep their conversation private. His clenched fists shook with barely contained emotion, his eyes wildly searching the room. When he failed to speak, Maia asked in detached manner, “What brings you here, Severus?”

“It’s Lily,” he replied in a pained whisper. His eyes finally settled on hers and she could see every emotion that he normally kept hidden so well.

Maia’s face assumed a mask of blank politeness. “What of her?”

“I know that you are still in contact with her.”

Raising an eyebrow in question, she coolly replied, “Do you?”

“You’ve been found out, Maia,” Severus declared, his voice saturated with reproach and disdain. “They know that you’ve been spying for the Order.”

The blood turned to ice in her veins, but she continued to act aloof. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Snape,” she denied firmly, her pretense of calm never slipping. “I am ever loyal…”

“Don’t patronize me, Maia,” he retorted harshly. “The Order has a traitor, one with a unique skillset that has allowed him to discover who you are. Once word reaches the Dark Lord, you’re done.”

Maia continued to meet his gaze without flinching, before gracefully rising to her feet. Snape recognized the danger to the messenger in the liquid way she moved, her actions reminding him strongly of a predator preparing to strike. Fingering her wand, she quietly asked, “Who else knows?”

“Dolohov, Avery, and Bellatrix.”

Her eyes widened minutely. Inhaling deeply, she looked around the drawing room of the home she’d grown up in and released the air she held on a shaky breath. She’d always known that this was a possibility, and while she knew her word carried more weight than many others of the inner circle, she had no doubt that Bella’s fanaticism for the Dark Lord and her eagerness to “dethrone” her rival would eventually lead to more substantial proof. She had been careful to hide her identity with the Order, but even she knew that no plan was perfect. “That’s it then.”

“You may have some time,” Severus said, shifting from one foot to the other. “The Dark Lord is currently away and it will take them time to get an audience with him. I can help you get out, but you must do something for me first.”

Maia looked at him once more and waited with rising impatience for him to speak. If what he said was true, her time was limited. He looked away in guilt, and her experience reading him as children gave her enough knowledge of his tells to ask, “What did you do, Severus?”

“What I was told,” he stated bitterly. “Had I known…” He shuddered.

Trepidation rising at seeing her normally stoic former friend so emotional, she questioned, “Known what, exactly?”

He looked back at her in defiance. “I was instructed to spy on Dumbledore. He met with Sybill Trelawney, a descendent of Cassandra Trelawney, a few weeks back,” Maia’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the renowned Seer. “The woman was interviewing for the vacant post in Divination at Hogwarts. It was a load of rubbish, at least up until the end. Maia, she issued a prophecy…”

Any warmth that had come back to her fled with those words. Severus hurriedly continued, shame faced, “I was caught and thrown out. I returned to the Dark Lord with the news of the threat to him. It didn’t take long before two were determined to fit the criteria…”

“Severus,” Maia interrupted anxiously, taking a halting step forward, her hand clenched tightly around her wand. “Just what did you hear?”

Reciting from his perfect memory, Snape intoned, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…”

Maia swayed on the spot as all the blood drained from her face. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth as she whispered in horror, “Harry.”

“It may not be him!” Snape decried. “It could be Longbottom’s boy! It doesn’t have to be hers!”

“Why are you telling me this?” Maia’s brain was fast thinking of all the ways to secure Lily and her small family. 

“She must be kept safe,” Snape admitted quietly, his eyes downcast.

Her mind settled, and resolve set her shoulders back. “You say my cover is blown, so I need to leave, today. You are coming with me.”

“I can’t!” the dark wizard denied with rising panic. “He’s promised that he won’t hurt her…”

“If you believe him, then why are you coming to me now?” she debated, shredding his weak argument to pieces. “You will come with me and explain this to Dumbledore. If I can no longer serve in my role, you will have to do it for me. For Lily. He cannot be allowed to win.”

Fear at what she was asking him to do chased its way across his face. He was shaking his head, looking at her as if she’d gone mad. Her blue eyes turned glacial and she raised her wand until it pointed steadily at his face. “You will do this, Severus, even if I must compel you to do it. If you want her to be safe, you will speak to Dumbledore.”

Minutes passed as he gave in to internal debate and Maia became more anxious. She did not want to cast the Imperius on him, but she would do it if she must. If Bellatrix knew that she had defected (not that she had ever truly joined), she needed to leave immediately. She didn’t trust that the older witch would wait for approval from the Dark Lord before seeking to apprehend her. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Are you coming with me, or not?”

“Yes,” he agreed with resignation, his lanky frame sagging slightly in defeat. “When do we leave?”

“Now,” she said. With a swish her wand, she cast her Patronus, a sleek panther erupting from its tip. “Albus, I have urgent news. Meet me tonight at the oak by the Black Lake, midnight.” She lowered the muffling charm and briskly walked out of the room, instructing Snape to wait for her. She walked to the second floor where her rooms were located and saw Narcissa entering the nursery, a sleepy Draco cradled against her shoulder.

“Is everything alright, Maia?” Narcissa inquired politely.

“I’ve been assigned a mission that will require me to go away for a while,” she hastily explained. Her eyes softened as they looked down on her drowsy nephew. “I will be unable to communicate while I’m away.”

“Is Lucius aware of this?” Narcissa asked, only slightly concerned. Though this did not seem like a routine assignment for the young witch, the Dark Lord was usually careful to ensure that she was kept from harm’s way.

Maia shook her head, “No, he’s not. Severus just brought the news to me. I must depart immediately.” Looking at Draco, she realized that she didn’t know when she would see him again. Reaching out to him, she pled, “May I?” Narcissa handed the boy over and Maia held him close to her chest, breathing deeply of his sweet smell and trying to hold back her tears. She whispered to him, “I’ll see you soon, okay? Be good for your mummy and daddy.”

She gave Narcissa a shaky smile as she handed the boy back to his mother. After giving her sister-in-law a quick hug of farewell, she disappeared into her suite to begin packing. Quick flicks of her wand had all of her essentials shrinking and flying into a beaded bag that she had altered with an Undetectable Expansion Charm, just in case she ever had to run. Within minutes, she was ready to go. 

She Apparated back to the drawing room where Severus paced in agitation. Grabbing his arm to allow him to pass through the wards around the manor, she left behind the only home she’d ever known.

The meeting with Dumbledore had gone about as expected, with much distrust expressed on both sides. After a great degree of groveling on Severus’s part and some Legilimency on Dumbledore’s, the elder wizard agreed to take on the younger man as a spy for the Order in Maia’s place. She, in turn, was given to the care of the McKinnon’s, who had also been forced into hiding due to the actions undertaken by Marlene McKinnon on behalf of the Order. She took care to maintain her regimen of transfiguration and Polyjuice potion as an added precaution, assuming the slightly altered form of a bushy-haired Muggle girl that lived in a town not far from her safe house. She was not allowed contact with anyone outside the McKinnon family, much to Lily’s dismay.

It was mid-September of 1981 when the Death Eaters located the McKinnon’s and Maia. The family of blood traitors was wiped out and Maia barely managed to escape, fleeing to Hogwarts while her disguise still held. Dumbledore had stated that he would take care of it, take care of her. There were other ways to keep her safe, as he felt that there was still work for her to do. Maia watched in dread as the greatest wizard of the century lifted his wand against her. She had barely managed to throw up her Occlumency shields to protect her memories, fearing mere seconds before his spell hit that he intended to Obliviate and reassign her. Her last recollection was of his promise to bring her back once it was safe to do so. 

The bastard lied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are direct quotes from _Goblet of Fire_ featured in the beginning of this chapter, which belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.

Yelling voices cut through some of the remaining fog lingering in Maia’s pain-ridden head. It took her a few moments to recognize the female voice furiously berating the male as her former – no, current, Hermione’s memories nudged at her – Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall. Her head screamed as Hermione’s memories (she had yet to wrap her mind around the fact that she had spent over a decade repeating her childhood as the Muggle-born, Hermione Granger) began to push their way back into her memory banks, roughly shifting _her_ memories around to make room for the life she’d been living under false pretenses. Hoping to distract her muddled mind from the stabbing pang of trying to accommodate and reconcile two separate lives, she focused in on listening to the tirade taking place outside of where she lay in darkness.

She strained her hearing to catch the low voice of Severus Snape as he explained, “…He seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him to into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch –”

_Barty Crouch?_ Maia thought in some surprise. What was that idiot up to? She recalled that he was a recent addition to the Dark Lord’s forces. He had been given a (relatively) warm welcome due to his status as the only child of a fast-rising member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the latter of whom was set persecuting the Dark Lord’s followers. Hermione’s memories reminded her that the addition was not so recent, and she forced herself to refocus only to catch McGonagall screaming that the dementor had offered a very swift, and final, greeting to Crouch upon entering the office where he was being detained.

“But he is no loss!” A wizard defended. _Hermione’s_ thoughts latched onto the vaguely familiar voice and provided the identity of the previously unknown wizard - Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Just what had the wizarding world been thinking when they elected _him_? “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!”

“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” came the flat voice of an older wizard. Her memory needed no prompting to recognize Albus Dumbledore, and her ire rose to a raging inferno at what she wished to do to that old man, defeater of Grindelwald or not. Her eyes snapped open and she turned her pillowed head to look in the direction of the voices, finding her view blocked by white curtains. Ignoring the nausea that came with moving so swiftly, Maia shakily forced herself into a seated position, breathing deeply in an attempt to steady herself, before slipping slowly from the cot where she laid. With a shaky hand, she quietly parted the curtains just enough to allow her to see the arguing occupants without revealing herself.

McGonagall and Snape were flanking the portly Minister of Magic as he faced off against the Headmaster who, to her mind, did not look like he had aged another day since she’d last seen him as herself. Three red-headed individuals, the Weasleys, she recalled with an odd warmth, were standing around another cot occupied by a boy with messy black hair and a shaggy dog. She watched in mild interest as a slight smile of condescension spread on the Minister’s face. She silently berated herself for not paying attention. She was obviously out of practice on gathering information if she could be so easily distracted by her surroundings.

“You – you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who – back?” Maia stiffened as she recalled the pain of her Mark activating in a familiar summons…was that earlier that night? How long had she been out? “Come now, come now…certainly, Crouch may have _believed_ himself to be acting on You-Know-Who’s orders – but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…”

Dumbledore went on to explain that the Triwizard Cup had been tampered with by Crouch to become a Portkey that transported Harry – _her godson, Harry_ – to Voldemort, where the dark wizard was given the means to be reborn. She frantically searched Hermione’s memories to fill in the blanks, as her own left off with the Dark Lord very much alive. The textbook-like way that Hermione had stored the knowledge of the deaths of Lily and James Potter, along with the supposed downfall of the Dark Lord, should have been no surprise; the younger witch would not have known Harry’s parents and would not have been affected personally. The recollection of it, however, was nearly enough to send Maia to her knees as grief and disbelief threatened to overwhelm her. Biting her lip hard so as to keep the sounds of her anguish inside, Maia silently screamed for her lost friend. The metallic taste of blood hit her tongue and her breathing became labored. She closed her eyes, squeezing out the tears that had gathered there, and concentrated on taking measured breaths, slowly compartmentalizing her thoughts as she did when performing her daily exercises for maintaining her Occlumency shields. She promised herself a full meltdown later, when she had the time and a safe place to do so. Her attention was yanked back to the argument before her when Harry began to yell.

“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” He was struggling to get out of bed, but Mrs. Weasley held him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy –”

She barely heard the blustering excuses that the Minister made on behalf of her brother. The disappointment she felt was merely a drop in the bucket of the maelstrom of negative emotion brewing in her gut. She was not surprised that Lucius had not given up on his dangerous and misguided cause, but she would have hoped otherwise, if for none other than Draco’s sake.

“Macnair!” shouted Harry, who Fudge also exonerated. “Avery – Nott – Crabbe – Goyle –”

Her disbelief at the determined ignorance of the man elected Minister of Magic was growing by leaps and bounds, the pounding ache between her temples intensifying. They were all _acquitted_? What the bloody hell was the Ministry thinking, to let them off? If they wanted names and proof, she would be more than happy to put every last one of those vile wizards away. Her common sense, however, overruled her brash desire to step out in support of Harry. If she went as she was now, there would no doubt be dire consequences to pay. How would she continue to support Harry if she were sent to Azkaban for her own crimes?

Dumbledore had the right of it in explaining to the pillock – she refused to give him the distinction of Minister of Magic in her mind any longer – that the dementors would defect in a heartbeat, leaving the Dark Lord free to release what few supporters had apparently been locked away. No matter the argument Dumbledore put forth in telling Fudge what he needed to do to try and head off this crisis, the fool refused to listen to reason, too afraid of losing political face and power. The other members of the informal audience, Madam Pomfrey, Molly Weasley, Bill, and Ron, all stood in stunned silence at the proclamations by the man elected to keep the wizarding world safe.

It seemed that her old friend, Severus, had been pushed to his limits as he yanked up the sleeve of his left arm. She watched in interest as varying degrees of shock and disgust appeared on everyone’s faces at seeing the ugly brand staring back at them. Well, she had a good idea of who she could safely come out to, at least. The lingering part of her that was Hermione Granger was saddened that Ron Weasley would not be one of them. 

“There,” Snape said harshly, shoving his pale arm in Fudge’s face. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

Snape’s lengthy speech was for naught, as Fudge stared in obvious denial and disgust. Maia would have told them all to give up, at this point, and the portly man had apparently agreed. Dropping the monetary prize for winning the Triwizard Tournament on Harry’s bed with mumbled congratulations, the wizard slammed his way out of the Hospital Wing. 

Not a moment after his leaving did Dumbledore wait before putting his command skills into action. Molly Weasley affirmed her support, and that of her family, to Dumbledore in resisting the oncoming threat. Bill left promptly following his mother’s declaration to deliver the elder wizard’s message to his father. Madam Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall followed shortly after to complete their assignments. Dumbledore’s next move, however, had Maia questioning his sanity.

“And now,” he said, his eyes flicking to where she peeked behind her curtain in sudden trepidation, “it is time for three of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius…if you could resume your usual form.”

The shaggy black dog that had laid passively on Harry’s bed leapt to the floor and transformed into an older, and much dirtier, version of the Sirius Black she remembered. He ignored Molly Weasley’s feared outcry to stare venomously at Snape, whose own face was a mask of horror and fury. Ron was doing what he could to calm his mother before she hyperventilated. Dumbledore’s eyes turned to look in her direction and she physically felt the moment that their eyes connected; the gentle probing in her mind told her that he had cast a silent _Legilimens_. Fear rose as she realized that she had no mental strength to keep him out, likely due to the enforced length of time she had upheld her Occlumency shields. To break his intrusion, she forcefully broke their mutual gaze and stared at the stone floor. Her hands tightened on the white curtains in anticipation of what she knew was coming next.

“Miss Malfoy, if you would please join us?” Surprise filled the face of everyone but Severus Snape as they turned to the curtained cot that held Dumbledore’s attention.

Taking a chance that he wouldn’t try to get in her mind again at that moment, she looked back up and rebelliously glared at him in a silent refusal to come out. A nonverbal spell pushed her curtains away, though they struggled for a moment under her grip before she let them go, to reveal her position. She stared daggers at the old man, her fists now clenched tightly at her sides with nothing else to hold onto. The tears that she had cried had dried on her cheeks, leaving her bright blue eyes practically glowing. If looks could kill, the Headmaster would be six feet under.

“Miss Malfoy…”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she commanded with venom, her body trembling from stress, fatigue, and her mounting ire. “How _dare_ you, you imbecilic, meddlesome, manipulative son of a two-knut slag!”

The outraged sputtering from Molly Weasley at the use of such language against a man as esteemed as Albus Dumbledore was the only sound in the echoing silence of the Hospital Wing. Ron and Harry both stared, dumbfounded, at the young woman that the Headmaster had identified as a Malfoy. They could see that she was young enough to be in school with them, but neither had any knowledge of Malfoy having any female relatives beyond his mother. Severus Snape had lifted a brow in amusement and crossed him arms across his chest, plenty willing to see how this confrontation would take place. Perhaps he’d get some answers while the woman in front of him brashly berated his employer. Sirius Black, however, was torn between wanting to defend the Headmaster against the infuriated harpy and clap in astonished amazement at her creative insult. Though he had heard the name Dumbledore used, his mind did not connect the witch in front of him with his former classmate.

Albus Dumbledore stood quietly by as he waited for her next move, resignation and – disappointment? – evident in his eyes if one looked closely enough. Instead of continuing to fume in impotent anger, her wand missing and being severely out of practice doing magic without it, Maia donned the mask she assumed when taking on her role as Belle Morte, shoving all her emotion deep into the pit of rage bubbling in her core. The swift change put every adult in the room, save the Headmaster, on high alert. “Are you finished?”

“Not remotely,” she replied icily. “But our long overdue conversation will need to wait until we have less of an audience.” Her gaze flicked over each occupant briefly before landing on Ron’s gaping expression. In irritation, she snapped in true Hermione fashion, “Do close your mouth, Ronald, before your soul flies out. Were you not listening that there was a dementor in the castle?”

“Ex-excuse me?” he questioned, his face and ears flaming at her admonishing. If his eyes weren’t telling him otherwise, he would swear that this strange witch sounded just like Hermione. Harry looked just as surprised at her tone.

“Don’t you talk like that to my son!” Molly Weasley demanded, her chest puffing out in indignation.

“And how would you have me talk to him, _Molly_ ,” Maia retorted angrily, “when he so rudely stares at me, as though I were some trollop displaying her wares. Perhaps you should revisit the childhood lesson emphasizing that it is very rude to stare. It obviously didn’t take.”

“ _That’s enough!_ ” came the irate command. Dumbledore’s blue eyes were flashing in irritation.

Maia smirked, though it didn’t reach her glacial eyes. Crossing her arms under her generous chest, she said, “Yes, it is. Do carry on with your re-introductions, Headmaster.”

Maia could see in his face that he did not appreciate her dismissive behavior or the blatant disrespect, but in the essence of time, Albus Dumbledore turned back to the two former enemies. Both noting that the show from the young witch had been put on hold, they had resumed their hateful glares. Seeing the deep-seated dislike on each of their faces, he coolly stated, “You are both here at my invitation. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”

Maia’s scoff was echoed by a quiet one from Harry. Dumbledore’s patience was obviously nearing its end, because when he next spoke, his voice cracked like a whip, “I will settle, in the short term, for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us.”

Maia watched as they both, quite reluctantly, reached forward and shook hands as directed, quickly releasing the other. She noted with inner amusement that Black was not even bothering to hide his actions as he wiped said hand on his worn trousers. Dumbledore pinched his lips in disapproval, but decided to let it go. “That will do to be going on with. Now I have work for each of you.” Turning to Sirius, he stated, “I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Remus’s for a while; I will contact you there.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Sirius Black nodded his assent. The protest from Harry at his godfather’s abrupt departure tore at Maia’s heart. She supposed that she was fortunate that she knew Harry as well as she did, having had the opportunity to attend school with him, but the relationship she viewed between Black and their shared godson was just one more grievance to add to her growing list against Dumbledore. Black’s reassurances that he would see Harry soon did give her some measure of peace, on Harry’s behalf, that at least he had one of them now. His eyes shifted quickly to her in curiosity before resuming his form as Padfoot. Once Dumbledore opened the heavy door the Hospital Wing for him, he departed.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, turning to Snape, his eyes wary, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…”

Snape’s obsidian eyes flickered over to her, and from years of experience as children, she easily interpreted the flash of fear and anger that accompanied the further paling of his sallow skin. Looking back at his employer, he steadily replied, “I am.”

“Then good luck,” Dumbledore said as he watched the Potions professor sweep out of the room as well.

“I must go,” the Headmaster said after several minutes of silence. “I will need to speak with the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion; you need rest. Miss Malfoy,” here she let out a near inaudible growl, “if you would please join me?”

Knowing that sooner was preferable to later, as there was truly much to do and she was eager to be of assistance again, despite the betrayal of her trust, Maia started forward. After a few halting steps as she gathered her strength, the young witch looked resolutely at the Headmaster and followed him out of the Hospital Wing, ignoring the whispering of the Weasley matriarch with Hermione’s two best friends as she passed. The silence between the young witch and the Headmaster on the short trek to his office was thick with tension from words unspoken. Once past the gargoyle and up the flight of stairs, Dumbledore directed her to take a seat and wait for his return.

Maia closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting her exhaustion seep through her every limb. Mind magic was taxing to the body and the energy required to hold her hastily erected Occlumency shields in place for _years_ , even if not consciously, had more than taken its toll. It occurred to her that had she not had that security measure in place, she would have no clue what was going on right now. The De-Aging spell that Dumbledore used was rarely cast, as it truly gave the recipient a “fresh start.” Not many witches or wizards were willing to give up a lifetime of knowledge and experience just to reclaim youth. In offering her “protection,” as he had deemed it, Dumbledore had decided that erasing Maia Malfoy altogether was the safest solution. How many others had he so callously performed that spell on?

She heard the door to the office open and close again, and the quiet shuffling of footsteps as they passed her and settled behind the great desk in the center of the room. Minutes passed in silence as each wondered where to begin. Making sure to keep all emotion from leaking into her voice, Maia asked the one question burning at the tip of her tongue. “Why?”

“Why, Miss Malfoy?” came the steady, inquiring reply.

Maia didn’t lift her head from the back of the plush chair, but did crack open an eye to glare at the old wizard. “You know what I’m asking. Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I suppose you would not believe that it was for your safekeeping,” at her scoff, he merely nodded and continued, “I thought not. How much do you recall?”

“ _Everything_ , no thanks to your hasty spell,” she replied acidly. Picking up her head, she scowled, looking him directly in his tired blue eyes. “Had I not the skill to prevent it, I would have lost everything to your foolish actions. Surely a wizard as well read and well-traveled as you knew the consequences of that particular spell.”

He neither confirmed nor denied her accusation. “Our resources were stretched thin, Miss Malfoy. We lost more members of the Order every day, and the prophecy made protecting the Potters and the Longbottoms a priority over an exposed spy. Do you disagree?”

She gave out a harsh laugh, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “No, Albus, I agree that they were more important. I would have given everything I had – I _gave_ everything I had – to keep them safe. That did not give _you_ the right to erase me.”

Spreading his hands out in innocent askance, he questioned, “What would you have had me do, Miss Malfoy? Let you stay here? It was common knowledge, to those that knew how to listen, that Lord Voldemort was searching for you with a similar intensity to that of the Potters. There was nowhere safe for Maia Malfoy, and I was not going to risk another massacre like the one at the McKinnons.”

She flinched at his implied accusation. _Emotionally manipulative bastard_ , she thought uncharitably. Although she knew the family was already on the Death Eaters’ hit list as blood traitors, she had no doubt that her assumed presence had exacerbated the violence. However, there was a point of his explanation that was leaving her decidedly raw in disbelief. “What of the Muggles you assigned to me as parents? Were their lives not also important? What if he had found me there? Not only are the Grangers innocent, but you left us _all_ helpless.”

The silence was telling. Mild regret was the only thing she could see, and it spoke volumes for how far he was willing to go “for the greater good.” She nodded her head minutely, and coolly said, “I see. Where does that leave us?”

“That would be up to you, Miss Malfoy,” he stated. “Where do you want to be?”

“I get a choice, this time?” she asked bitterly. Looking away from him, she studied the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. There was no question on where she wanted to be, where she needed to be. For Lily. For her godson. “I want to stay with Harry.”

“I agree with that course of action. It has not escaped my notice that ‘Hermione Granger’ has proven herself to be invaluable to Harry’s success these last four years.”

Maia released a heavy sigh at having to resume another life not her own. Resolve settling in her mind, she replied, “I’m aware that ‘Hermione’ helps to balance out some of his more _rash_ behavior.” Looking back at the Headmaster, she firmly continued, “I will remain Hermione Granger for so long as the Dark Lord poses a threat to Harry. I will not, however, do so in secret from the Order, again.”

Albus Dumbledore regarded her closely, weighing the pros and cons of her condition against what he knew must be done. He resolved that the immediate repercussions were not so severe that it could not be corrected later, if need be. And Harry Potter, though more than willing to fight the Dark Arts as he had been since his welcome back to the wizarding world, needed Hermione Granger’s cool intellect if he were to prevail.

“So be it,” he consented. “We will reintroduce you, so to speak, at the first Order meeting. I will come to collect you from the Grangers’ residence when the time comes.”

Irritation flooded her at his need to moderate her terms. He may have some say in the matter of her identity but there was one thing she would not budge on. “I will not be returning to the Grangers’, Albus. I will not knowingly continue to put them in danger just to maintain my cover.”

His face was devoid of emotion when he inquired, “And what will you tell them, when they ask why their daughter will not be coming home?”

“ _They have no daughter, Albus_ ,” she replied scathingly. “And I will not change my mind because you think it best. You lost all right to a say in my well-being when you did _this_ ,” she waved her arm down her youthful body, her eyes aflame, “to me. You will erase all memories of Hermione Granger from their minds and send them to safety.”

“No, Miss Malfoy,” Dumbledore said firmly, “If you want their memories erased, you will do it yourself. As you say I no longer have the authority to suggest where it would be safest for you to reside, I cannot force you to stay with the Grangers’; however, know that I do not condone the willful manipulation of their memories because you don’t wish to play your part to the fullest.”

_But you have no issue with condemning them to death, if my identity were discovered_ , Maia thought disparagingly. With a stiff nod, she silently acquiesced. Rising from her seat, she looked coolly at the old man sitting across from her. “If that is all?”

“Actually,” he said, causing her to pause. “I believe that these belong to you.” Reaching into a drawer in his desk, the Headmaster set her sorely missed vinewood wand and a familiar beaded bag on its top. She hastily reclaimed her possessions, a sense of relief filling her at being properly armed again. As she opened the door to make her exit, Dumbledore gave a parting reminder that she would need to adjust her appearance before she saw either Harry or Ron again. She left without comment and quietly made her way back in the direction of the Hospital Wing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.

Bone-deep fatigue dragged at her limbs as Maia slowly walked down the empty hallways of the castle, the muffled shuffle of her weary steps the only sound in her ears. Her tired mind continued to sluggishly integrate Hermione Granger's memories with her own; she hoped that it wouldn't be long before she would be able to recall both lives without having to first process what she was searching for. She knew it would take time to reconcile that she was not only Maia Malfoy, but also Hermione Granger; they were not two separate entities, even if it felt like it right then. As she passed the door to the ladies' toilet, she decided that it would likely be best to take Dumbledore's advice – loathe as she was to agree with him on anything, at the moment – and repair what she could of her appearance.

The closing of the door echoed loudly in the empty room, and Maia idly wondered why she had not run into any teachers or prefects in her wandering. Making her way to the elongated mirror hanging over the row of basins she wondered if her body was beginning to shut down from the night's overload, because the visage looking back at her elicited little mental or emotional response. Blue eyes calmly took in her familiar features, noting that they belonged to a teenager and not the woman in her early twenties that she remembered. Tracing the image in the mirror from her head to her hips, where the mirror cut off her view, she found that the height difference wasn't too noticeable, but Hermione Granger's athletic frame was quite different from the hourglass figure that Maia now sported. The jumper that she had donned earlier that night to attend the Third Task was stretched tightly across her full breasts and loosened at her waist. A thin line of skin showed between the bottom of her jumper and the tops of her trousers. The trousers, themselves, were quite snug through her hips and thighs, and she mildly wondered why she hadn't noticed the discomfort before. Looking back in her blue eyes, she finally saw some of the familiar irritation and anger simmering in their depths.

_Damn Voldemort and his bloody Mark!_ The cursed brand had stripped her of her guise and she knew that without the particular Polyjuice potion she'd been using with the hair of a Muggle girl from 1981, she would never get the finished transformation exactly right. Skilled though she was at transfiguration, "Hermione Granger" was the product of human transfiguration altering her Polyjuiced features. She had found that, on their own, both methods of altering her form had their limits. In experimenting with different ways to keep her identity concealed while spying for the Order, she had stumbled upon the fruitful combination. Polyjuice would fade after an hour, and human transfiguration was merely the altering of one's superficial features; if someone were to look close enough at her height and bone structure, they could determine who lay under the mask. She'd found, however, that if she took the Polyjuice first, and transfigured her form from her altered appearance, then the mask would hold, even once the Polyjuice had faded. Without the latter, she would merely be Maia Malfoy wearing a watered-down version of Hermione Granger's features.

As she began the process of transforming her hair and face to better match the face she'd seen in the mirror for over a decade, she determined that she would just need to be careful when around members of her original generation. Perhaps enough time had passed that they wouldn't be able to place her. Sirius Black certainly hadn't reacted as though he knew her, not that they ran in the same social circles while in school. Regardless, Maia Malfoy should have been turning thirty-six this fall, not sixteen, so who would guess? Then again, she wondered what her jaunts with the Time Turner in her repeated third year had done to her age. Due to its heavy use, she wouldn't be surprised if she was physically closer to seventeen, at this point.

She gave a quiet laugh as she finished her spell work, taking in the finished product. It would do, at least until the Dark Lord decided to issue another summons. With a frown, she considered that she'd need to find a way around that if she were to remain at Harry's side as Hermione Granger. What a scandal that would be, to turn into someone else in the middle of class because her Dark Mark burned. The minute she would have following the summons would barely give her time to find cover before she reverted to her natural form. It also took far too long to adjust her appearance so exactly; hardly convenient if and when it would again be required.

Looking again at her reflection, Maia shook her dark, curly head in mild disgust. There was no way this would pass without at least some questions. She was unable to alter her body's shape, so she gave a few expert waves of her wand to tailor her clothes to better fit her new form. The drastic change in her body, alone, would be enough to make people question what had happened to her. Deciding that there was nothing else she could do right then, and hoping that the Dark Lord would not issue another summons before she had to leave on the Hogwarts Express – a rather vain wish, as that wouldn't be until the end of the week and it was only Sunday, today – Maia exited the toilet with a sigh and resumed her trek to the Hospital Wing. Her luck held; not only did she make it back without experiencing unwanted encounters with authority figures, but Harry was asleep when she crept back in.

Maia walked to the head of his bed and paused, her eyes filling with tears. She skimmed over what she could see of him outside of the light blanket, noting the white bandage wrapped around one forearm. She saw the empty vial of Dreamless Sleep on the stand next to him and determined that was the cause for his seemingly restful slumber.

With a shaking hand, she lightly brushed his hair back from his forehead, briefly exposing the lightning shaped scar that resided there. Her chest tightened as she recalled how it came to be there, and what it cost. Bending down, she placed a gentle kiss on the scar and closed her eyes. Her forehead resting against his, she made a whispered promise, "I'll protect him, Lily. Even if it kills me, I'll keep him safe."

The bed she'd occupied earlier in the night held no appeal for her, as she determined it too far from Harry; she needed the comfort that his nearness would bring. Even if it was a false hope, she liked to think that she could prevent anything further happening to him if she were within his physical reach.

Waving her wand, she transfigured one of the hospital's standard wooden chairs into one closely resembling the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room and settled in for the remainder of the night.

****

* * *

Maia was gasping for air and her heart raced as she startled awake several hours later. She thanked her still-memory-processing mind for the muddled effects of her dreams, for she had no doubt that some of her worst memories and crimes were eager to make their way back to her vulnerable, sleeping mind. Looking out one of the large windows, she noted the early dawn light. Running her hands through her hair, getting her fingers caught in curled tangles, Maia released a small groan. The feeling of being watched crept into her awareness, and she looked around quickly before her transfigured brown eyes met bright green.

Shoving her weariness aside, Maia stood from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. Clasping her hands in her lap to keep from grabbing one of his, she bit her lip at this reintroduction to her godson. "Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"Where were you last night?" he asked without preamble. His broken eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions – anger, self-loathing, sadness, hurt, accusation – and it broke her heart to see it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't awake when you were brought in last night, Harry," she replied quietly. She bit her lower lip in discomfort. "I…wasn't feeling well during the third task, and I was brought here to recover. When I awoke and could check on you, you were already asleep. I stayed in the chair the rest of the night."

It wasn't the complete truth, but she mollified herself that what she told him wasn't a complete lie either. Now was not the time to let him in on her secret. Feigning ignorance, she glanced down at his arm and furrowed her brow. "What happened last night?"

Harry's eyes slammed shut and she saw him clench his teeth together as if he were locking in everything he wanted to say. She had the absurd thought, brought on by her Muggle upbringing by dentists, that he would ruin his teeth squeezing them together that way. Thinking that he might feel better if she weren't so close, assuming that he either felt betrayed by her absence the night before or feared her judgment, she made her way to stand next to the window adjacent to his bed.

"Voldemort is back," Harry strangled out. "And Cedric Diggory is dead."

When she made to return to his side, a quick shake of his head halted her. Returning to her spot, her fingers began to idly trace the rim of the empty vial sitting on his bedside table. Deeming her silence to be enough, Harry climbed out of the bed and began to pace in agitation. Words spewed from his mouth in a flood as he told her what happened from the moment he entered the maze, the creatures and spells he faced, how he insisted that Diggory take hold of the Triwizard Cup with him, and every moment following in the graveyard.

Maia had to look away from where Harry was wearing a track in the stone floor. If the dementor had not already gotten Crouch, she would have taken great pleasure in killing him for what he did to Harry. Between the three tasks, the slander published throughout the year by that odious reporter, and then what he went through last night…a slight movement out of the corner of her eye drew her focus from her internal raging to a beetle scurrying towards the slight gap between the two window panes. Before she could think about it further, she slammed her hand down and tightly grasped the offending insect in her fist. Barty Crouch Jr. may have escaped her wrath, but a certain journalist would not. Noting that Harry had stopped pacing to stare at her, she produced an embarrassed grimace and apologized.

Harry settled himself back on the edge of his bed, he messy head and shoulders hunched forward. Maia grabbed the empty vial and slid the beetle inside, quickly plugging the cork back in to prevent her unwilling captive from escaping. She'd have to remember to put an unbreakable charm on the glass later. After stuffing the vial in her pocket, she slowly made her way over to sit next to him. Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders. When he didn't pull back, she whispered into his hair, "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

Though his hands muffled his response, she could clearly understand him when he replied, "I told him to take the Cup with me."

Maia tightened her hold, barely holding back her own tears at his pain, and began a murmured litany that it wasn't his fault. The full weight of everything that he had witnessed and experienced the night before overwhelmed him as Maia held him close, and his body began to tremble with his barely suppressed sobs.

Neither of them knew how long they sat there, but when Madame Pomfrey came by to check Harry's arm, they both had settled. Harry was discharged with orders to rest as much as he could. Madame Pomfrey had given Maia a rather peculiar look, and she knew that the mediwitch suspected something was off with her, but thankfully, she said nothing. She was almost grateful that her other patients had pulled away the attention of the observant witch the previous night.

The rest of that day, and next several following, were a bit of a blur for Maia. She tried to stay with Harry as much as possible. He didn't wish to attend breakfast the morning after the third task and she stayed behind with him, cowardly delaying the inevitable with her own transformation (though based on the lack of responses from Harry and Ron, she supposed she really didn't have much to worry about). Ron came back later to say that Dumbledore had spoken to the school at breakfast and had requested that nobody ask him questions or badger him about what happened in the maze. While Dumbledore was giving his speech, Harry had been meeting with the Diggorys, telling them how their son had died and trying, unsuccessfully, to offer them the thousand-galleon prize.

It irritated Maia to no end to see how many of her fellow students continued to skirt Harry in the corridors while avoiding his eyes, but he reassured her that he didn't care. She noticed that he found it more of a relief to spend time alone with her and Ron, walking the corridors of the castle, spending time by the lake, or quietly contemplating his next move at wizard's chess in the common room. All three had reached a point of understanding that the night of the third task needed no further discussion; it was now just a matter of waiting to find out what was happening outside the protective walls of Hogwarts. Maia was more than a little perturbed that she hadn't been given any additional information by Dumbledore, especially given that she was a legitimate member of the Order.

The topic of the mysterious Miss Malfoy had been one subject that was used with great enthusiasm by Ron in his attempts to pull Harry out of his contemplative moods. As she was not yet ready to reveal her secret to Harry, and didn't know if she could trust Ron, Maia had little to contribute to the conversation. Both boys wondered who she was and how she had come to be at Hogwarts that night. Ron speculated that she was a Death Eater plant sent to finish Harry off, but the latter brushed it off stating that Crouch had verified that he was working alone.

Maia snapped in irritation that if this "Miss Malfoy" was truly a Death Eater spy, wouldn't Dumbledore have had her incarcerated in the same manner as Crouch? She was relieved that Harry didn't give in to Ron's increasingly farfetched theories, seeing the topic of conversation for what it was – a distraction.

****

* * *

The day of departure was hectic as students scrambled to find the items they forgot to pack at the last minute. Harry had agreed, reluctantly, to attend the Leaving Feast with Maia and Ron; it would be the first time that he'd been there when it was full since he left the Hospital Wing. Instead of the regular end-of-the-year decorations indicating the winning house of the Inter-House Championship, black banners hung in honor of Cedric Diggory.

All the teachers were present, including the real Alastor Moody and Madame Maxime, and excepting Professor Karkaroff. Maia's observing gaze stopped when it met with Snape's. The intense questioning look in his eyes told her that he, at least, knew who she was and obviously had many questions. Quickly scrutinizing his modestly dressed form, she couldn't detect anything off, so she assumed that his rendezvous with the Dark Lord several nights prior hadn't gone _too_ poorly. Returning his stare, she gave a barely perceptible nod, a silent assent that she would answer his questions at a later date, before she resumed following Harry and Ron to the Gryffindor table.

Harry was not the only one closely inspected by their fellow students as they sat down, though only she noticed the sly glances given to her. The Weasley siblings all gathered around Harry in a show of support that warmed Maia's heart, the cracking jokes of the twins doing much to lighten his somber mood.

Dumbledore had acknowledged Cedric and Harry, both, with an honored toast. Maia's eyes narrowed as she observed that most of the Slytherin table failed to rise when it came time to lift their drinks to Harry. She sent a silent Stinging Hex through the standing figures to Draco, causing him to jump up in pained surprise to join the others. The darkening of his cheeks in embarrassment made Maia smirk. Harry, noticing the exchange from the corner of his eye, gave his first grin in days, turning her smirk into a genuine smile of pleasure. Turning back to the Headmaster, she listened as he gave his final parting words that there were dark times ahead and stressed that only in working together could they successfully overcome the overwhelming odds against them.

The rest of the morning passed quickly after that. The trio of Gryffindors had returned to the tower to grab their belongings and were now waiting in the crowded entrance hall for the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade station. Maia watched in amusement as both Harry and Ron became flustered at Fleur Delacour's affectionate farewells. Her attention was called away by Krum, when he came to offer his own goodbye. "Can I have a vord?"

"Oh…yes…all right," she replied in surprise. _Shite_. She'd forgotten entirely about her interactions with the Bulgarian seeker. Her cheeks darkened as she recalled some of the more heated moments between the two. Thankfully, to her twenty-two-year-old mind, nothing had surpassed heavy snogging in the stacks, but it was enough to wonder how she was going to handle the upcoming conversation.

"I haff not seen you since the third task," he stated bluntly, looking at her in mild trepidation. "Are you mad at vot happened in the maze?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head quickly in denial. "No, not at all! I know that you were not responsible for what happened."

He shuffled from one foot to the other. He gave a small smile, but still seemed apprehensive. "That is good, then. I don't suppose you haff thought on my offer to visit this summer?"

Maia bit her lip as she pondered what to say, noticing the way Krum's eyes darkened at the action. Her blush reignited as she stumbled out, "I'm not sure, given current circumstances, that it would be the best idea right now."

Krum lifted a hand a tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "You are right. I vould not vant to risk anything bad happening to you if you vere to come now. I can only hope that it vill be soon, though." He smiled at her. "May I write you?"

Maia sighed with a relieved smile, internally chastising herself for putting off the inevitable. "That would be nice."

Neither were satisfied with the conversation, for differing reasons, but deemed it a good time to part ways. Krum escorted Maia back to where Ron waited, his neck craning to watch them return. She pointedly arched a brow at his fickleness when he strangled out his request for an autograph before Krum departed, as she clearly remembered his reprimand at the Yule Ball for "fraternizing with the enemy." Only now that Harry had won the tournament was it okay to be friendly again with the Bulgarian.

Harry watched in some amusement as Krum awkwardly began to sign a few objects for Ron, both wizards completely oblivious to the aggravation brewing on Hermione's face. He couldn't blame her; Ron _had_ been a bit of a git for the last several months. He took his cue from her, gathering his belongings as she did and began to walk away to the carriages. Maybe if Ron noticed they'd left, he'd stop acting like a fanboy and join them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while. Any quotes or allusions to scenes from the Goblet of Fire belong to J.K. Rowling.**

The beginning of the train ride back to London went very much like their last days at Hogwarts had, pondering what Dumbledore was planning to do with Voldemort's return and wondering how it would affect them in the coming months. Only the arrival of the lunch trolley stopped the flow of their conversation.

Maia took out that morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and pretended to read through it as she considered her options once she got off the train at King's Cross. The problem of the Grangers had been stewing in the back of her mind for several days. She was admittedly loathe to give up the loving care of the two people who had raised her for the last 15 years; her upbringing with the Muggle couple far surpassed anything she had received as the daughter of Abraxas Malfoy, in her opinion. Her initial proclamation to Dumbledore, to remove their memories of her and send them to safety, still seemed to be the most viable option. She glanced up on that thought and caught Harry looking cautiously at the paper in her hands. "There's nothing in here. You can check, if you'd like, but there's nothing at all."

"Nothing?" Harry asked in surprise, taking the paper and flipping through it himself.

"No," she reaffirmed. "I've been checking every day. There was a small piece after the third task saying that you had won the tournament, but there was no mention of Cedric. Doubtless, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet. Wouldn't want to cause a panic," she finished bitterly.

"He'll never keep Skeeter quiet," Harry stated with conviction. "Not on a story like this."

Maia's eyes lit up as she smiled deviously. "Rita hasn't written anything since the third task. Until she learns that reporting lies and spreading slander is hardly in her best interest, she will be taking a mandatory vacation from her writing career."

"What did you do?" Ron asked in horrified fascination. The look on his female friend's face spelled nothing but trouble.

"Nothing she hasn't earned," she replied nonchalantly. "I figured out how she had been listening in on private conversations. It seems that the _resourceful_ Ms. Skeeter is an unregistered animagus."

"What?!" The question came to her in stereo from the two shocked boys.

"It was your idea of bugging that gave me the idea, Harry," she said. Before he could ask, she continued retrieving the enlarged vial from her bag, "Not _electronic_ bugging, as you'd thought. She can turn into a beetle."

"That's not really…?" Harry leaned forward to look closer at the squat beetle sitting in the jar. He recognized that the shape of the beetle's antennae did match the ostentatious swirl of the reporter's glasses, and his eyes widened.

"I caught her on the windowsill the morning after the third task," she said, looking at him steadily. He recalled when she had interrupted his confession by slamming her hand on the stone sill and shook his head slowly in amazement. "The beetle that Viktor pulled from my hair after the third task, when Malfoy was talking into his hand under that tree, it was all her. She has been buzzing around for stories all year."

"There was that beetle on the statue in the gardens, at the Yule Ball, remember?" Ron asked Harry. "But in Divination…"

"The window was open. Trelawney can't have us passing out from all the incense she uses. Then who would she use for predicting gruesome deaths? Skeeter was likely perched on the windowsill then, too," Harry concluded with a smile.

"What are you going to do with her?" Ron asked, turning back to Maia.

The young witch looked serenely at the angrily buzzing beetle in the jar. "I haven't decided yet. I had thought of releasing her with a warning once we'd reached London, but I don't feel that she will have quite learned her lesson by then." She returned the jar to her bag just as the door to their compartment opened.

"I didn't know that a Gryffindor Mudblood could be so devious, Granger. And here I thought that you lot were all about fair play and second chances," Draco Malfoy drawled.

"I think you'll find that there is quite a lot that you don't know about me, Draco," Maia said smoothly.

The pale boy tensed, his face scrunching in disgust. "Don't call me that."

"Your name?" she asked in feigned innocence. "Has it changed recently? Perhaps to Spoiled, Pretentious Ferret?"

Harry and Ron guffawed at the comeback, which did little to help the escalating anger in Draco's face. Whipping out his wand, he pointed it at Maia and threatened, "Careful, Granger. Mudbloods and Muggle-lover's will be the first to go!"

Before either Harry or Ron could react, Maia was standing chest-to-chest with a frozen Draco Malfoy, her wand tip pressed firmly under his chin. She had not been around for the last 14 years to offset some of the deplorable behavior that her nephew had grown into, but she would be damned if she let it continue in her presence.

She stared steadily into his eyes, noting that he was becoming increasingly nervous. Leaning forward, she quietly spoke into his ear, "It appears that Lucius has been rather lax in his discipline, _Draco_. That Stinging Hex this morning was but a love tap in comparison to what I'm capable of doing." The boy in front of her stiffened, his hand tightening on his wand. Leaning back again, she gave him a smile that failed to reach her cool eyes. "Perhaps it is _you_ who should be careful."

Crabbe and Goyle had been standing by, stupidly watching the interaction between their leader and the witch. When Maia stepped back, thinking her message delivered, Draco lifted his wand in anger. He could not let the Mudblood get the best of him again. Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, lifting their own wands to take offense. As the three opened their mouths, a blaze of spells came flying at them from every direction, causing the compartment to light up as though a box of fireworks had exploded. When her vision returned to normal a few blinks later, Maia looked down passively to find her nephew and his two goons lying unconscious on the floor.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred, walking into the compartment. George followed, being sure to step on Malfoy's hand with increased pressure as he entered. The latter was eyeing the fallen boys with interest.

"Interesting effect," he commented, looking in particular at the tentacles sprouting from Crabbe's face. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Huh," he grunted lightly. "I used a Jelly-Legs Jinx. Guess those two don't work well together. Though, really," he said, tilting his head to the side in assessment, "I think it rather improves his looks. What do you think, Fred?"

"I think I want to know where you've got the Firewhisky stashed, George," Fred replied nonchalantly as he nudged Goyle with his toe.

Ron looked on with confusion between his two brothers. Maia laughed and said, "George is apparently sporting rose-colored glasses if he thinks Crabbe's looks have improved, Ron."

"What would rose-colored glasses have to do with anything?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed.

Shaking her head, catching looks of appreciation from the twins, she said, "Nevermind."

Looking around at the motionless lot, she clapped her hands to get their attention before motioning down to their unconscious guests. "Well, let's not leave them here. They don't add much to the décor."

Ron, Harry, and George set to the task of kicking, rolling, and pushing the unconscious trio out of the compartment and down the hall. Maia settled back into her seat and Fred took the one opposite her. She watched as he looked at her appraisingly. "Something is different about you, Granger," he said matter-of-factly.

Tilting her head to the side in askance, she widened her eyes innocently and said, "What do you mean, Fred? I'm the same Hermione Granger I've always been."

A mischievous look lit up his blue eyes at her game. "The Hermione Granger I know doesn't act or look like that."

Holding up a hand to her ample chest, she gasped and narrowed her eyes in mock offense, "Are you implying I'm plain, Fred Weasley?"

Fred laughed and denied, his arms waving in exaggeration, "Never! I like my bollocks right where they are, thank you. I am merely observing that something has changed." His face became serious, but his eyes were still alight with mirth. "Care to share what you've been up to with the class, Miss Granger?"

Maia was enjoying the lighthearted banter. She hadn't realized just how much the stress of the last week had weighed her down. "Why, Mr. Weasley, where would be the fun in that?"

"Ah ha!" he said, pointing at her. The other three rejoined the pair as he declared, "So there is something to tell!"

A wide smile spread across Maia's face, causing her eyes to sparkle. "Perhaps."

Nothing that any of the boys said could get her to say anymore, and conversation turned to the less-than-pleasant topic of Ludo Bagman and his con. It came as no surprise to Maia that Bagman had cheated the twins, though had she still been solely Hermione her reaction would have been different. Maia had no misconceptions at the trustworthiness of most wizards when it came to money. Seeing that there was nothing more to say on the subject, the rest of the journey was spent by the boys playing cards while Maia watched on. She could see Harry's mood grow increasingly somber as they made the final approach to King's Cross.

The halls were loud chaos as students scrambled to make their way off the train with their belongings. Ron struggled to get his trunk and owl cage out and into the crowd. Maia heard Harry ask the twins to hang back. Casting a subtle Notice-Me-Not charm, Maia waited just outside the door to hear what he had to say. She heard the click of latches, some brief shuffling, and then the distinct jingle of several coins rubbing together. "Take it," Harry said.

"What?" one twin asked. When Harry repeated his directive, stating that he didn't want it, she concluded that he was once again trying to get rid of his tournament winnings. The twins thought him mental, questioning him in awed voices.

"It's for the joke shop," Harry stated. "I don't want it and I don't need it, but I could do with a few more laughs. I have a feeling that we all could soon. So, take it, and get inventing." She heard him close the lid on his trunk, latching it closed again. "Just…don't tell your mum where you got it, okay?"

"Harry…"

"Look," her godson said flatly. "Take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now." Maia smiled smugly, knowing that she was largely responsible for his knowledge of those hexes. "Just do me one favor? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Maia heard him coming out and quickly removed her spell, making her way swiftly down the hall. She wouldn't say anything about what she heard, but she was proud of Harry and knew that Lily would have been as well. His comment on the twins' inventions got her thinking, though. Perhaps she could make her own investment and get Fred and George's help coming up with something to maintain her current appearance. Some of their work was truly ingenious.

Out past the barrier separating Platform 9 ¾ from the Muggle world, Maia watched as Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a tight hug. She heard the matron say that she thought Dumbledore would let Harry come and stay with them later in the summer, but Maia had already determined that Harry would not stay with the Dursleys a day longer than he had to, if she could help it. _Why_ Dumbledore felt that he had to stay the majority of the summer she didn't know, but as his godmother, she would not see him continue to suffer under their roof. Seeing Petunia standing there looking down on Harry and Mrs. Weasley, her equine nose pointed in the air in disdain, made her blood boil. Lily would have _never_ stood for this treatment of her son. Unfortunately, there was little that she could do at that moment, and so she chose to bide her time.

As Harry made his way over to his aunt and uncle, Ron waved him goodbye, and Fred and George gave him their fervent – if slightly hushed, thanks to the suspicious eye of Mrs. Weasley – appreciation. Maia strode over to him and pulled him in a firm hug. With a kiss on his cheek, something she had never done before, she looked him in the eyes and said, "I'll see you soon, Harry."

With a smile, she watched as he followed his family out of the station, his cheeks lit up in an adorable blush.

Now, it was her turn. Determinedly compartmentalizing her thoughts, shoving away all doubts of her decision, Maia Malfoy made her way over to the smiling Grangers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> A/N: I was feeling rather guilty for the shortened length of the last chapter, so I wanted to post another. Chances are that I'll be going to a one-post-per-week schedule after this (if I can keep up with my current writing regimen). Chapter lengths do vary, based on where it feels best to cut off scenes, but hopefully they will stay longer after this.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. It makes me happy that others seem to like this as much as I do.

The room was dim, long shadows cast by the light of the fireplace making it seem darker than it may have otherwise been. Sirius Black was slumped in the corner of an old, velvet chaise, one long leg stretched across the worn cushions with the other foot planted firmly on the floor. From his right hand dangled an empty tumbler, one that had just recently been filled with a strong Firewhisky. He didn't think Moony would mind overmuch if he indulged in his secret stash, so long as he left the werewolf's chocolate cache alone. He watched the yellow and orange flames dance in the hearth, but he took no comfort from the heat it put out.

Harry was, once again, at "home" with his aunt and uncle for the summer hols, a fact that burned Sirius more than he let on. He had hoped that once he had finished his assignment from Dumbledore to gather the troops, he would be tasked with another – anything to keep his mind busy and away from the unpleasant thoughts of how many ways he was failing as a godfather. Instead, he was sitting here, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for the next move.

The lack of action did nothing to quiet the maelstrom in his mind. Years of negative emotion from his time in Azkaban fed his nightmares from the First War and his guilt for the deaths of the Potters to near unmanageable levels, pushing him to jump off the chaise to refill his glass. He threw the generous contents back in a single swallow, savoring the burn as it chased down his throat, imagining that the fiery liquid could also burn away his lingering demons, before it settled as a warm glow in his otherwise empty stomach.

"Keep going at that rate, and there will be none left for your next visit."

Refilling his glass again, Sirius turned around to see that Remus had settled silently in his vacant spot. He leaned back against the simple wooden table at his back and raised this glass to sip more leisurely. "I think that bottle has been around since the last time I was here, Moony. Just making myself at home."

Remus chuckled quietly. He looked at his old friend in understanding. Sirius had never been good at remaining idle when there was work to be done, provided – of course – that said work was something Sirius wanted to be doing.

"Any news?" Sirius asked, looking down as his swirled the amber liquid lazily.

"None," Remus sighed tiredly. He tilted his head back until it lay on the arm of the chaise. "You're sure that Dumbledore didn't say anything more to you?"

Sirius glanced at him in irritation. "I would have told you, if he had."

Remus lifted his hands placatingly. "I know, I'm sorry. I know you though, Padfoot. When you're eager to get something done, sometimes you ignore the details."

Sirius shrugged and tossed back the rest of his drink. His eyes closed, he thought back to that night in the Hospital Wing. Though he did pay attention to the argument between Fudge and others, most of his focus was on Harry. Guilt ate at him that his godson should have suffered at the hands of the traitor and the bastard that killed James and Lily. When Fudge stormed out in denial, he knew that this war would be just like the first, with little to no help from the Ministry.

He couldn't believe that Dumbledore continued to trust _Snivellus_ , of all people. He remembered when the git had been introduced as a spy for the Order. He didn't believe his change of heart then, and he continued to doubt his motivations now. He opened his eyes and frowned as he recalled Dumbledore making re-introductions for three of the people in the room. He had called the young witch a Malfoy, but he didn't recall his cousin having any other children. Then again, he _had_ been locked away for 12 years. News wasn't exactly fresh once it reached Azkaban.

"Hey, Moony," he called, still frowning. "Did old Lucius ever have any other kids?"

Remus lifted his head from where he had been resting it on the back of the chaise with a questioning look. "Lucius Malfoy?" At Sirius's confirmed nod, he said, "No, just Draco. Why?"

Sirius pursed his lips as his mind churned. No females in the latest generation. Female Malfoys – at least those born to the name – were rather rare. So, unless Lucius was stepping out on Narcissa – _doubtful_ , he mused, as Narcissa would have his bollocks for it – there was only one other he could recall. "Whatever happened to that Malfoy bird that Lily was friends with for a few years?"

"Maia Malfoy?" Remus asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He hadn't ever given any real thought to her while they were in school together, let alone pondered on what happened to her after graduation. "I don't know, actually. I seem to recall that she was promised to Dolohov; maybe she relocated to Russia." Remus looked at Sirius intently. "Why the sudden interest in the Malfoys?"

The raven-haired wizard crossed his arms over his chest, a finger tapping the side of his glass as he thought. He began to walk a slow circuit around the small room. "Something Dumbledore said," he replied. At Remus's arched brow, he retorted, "I may not be _you_ , Moony, but not all details escape me."

Remus nodded his head in acceptance and waved his hand. "Go on, then. What did Dumbledore say?"

"He wanted three of us to recognize each other for who we were. It was then that he asked me to transform back from Padfoot to man."

"And the other two?"

" _Snivellus_ was one. The look on his face at seeing me tells me that our _relationship_ has withstood the test of time," he said with a satisfied smile that bordered on feral. Looking at Remus where he sat, leaning forward with his arms propped on his knees, he continued, "The other was a young witch identified as 'Miss Malfoy.'"

The werewolf trained his focused gaze on the floor, his brows drawing down. "How young, Sirius?"

The other man thought back and tried to remember any specifics on the girl's looks. He shrugged. "Couldn't have been much older than Harry. Sixteen or seventeen would be my guess. I didn't look that closely." A loud snort made Sirius draw up in indignation. "What was that for?"

"Of all the times for you to fail to inspect a female," Remus said, shaking his head. "The one time it would have been helpful for you to do so. What happened to Sirius Black, lady extraordinaire?"

Sirius chucked his glass at Remus's head in agitation, missing, thanks to the wolf's quick reflexes. "He went to Azkaban for 12 years. Not many birds worth paying attention to in that hell hole." Remus had the grace to look ashamed at his small joke. "Besides, I don't look at _kids_ , Moony. She's likely still a student."

"Well, she wasn't one of mine," Remus asserted. "I only taught one Malfoy, and that was Lucius and Narcissa's boy. Neither had any other children, as far as I'm aware, but Dumbledore would likely know more."

With a grunt, Sirius agreed distractedly. He wished he hadn't thrown that glass; he needed another drink. As he made his way to Remus's stark kitchen in search of another, he stated, "Obviously, he does. What are the chances he'd share that information, though?"

"I suppose you would have to ask," came the amused reply by the front door. Remus jumped to his feet, wand in hand, and Sirius spun, unarmed, to face the unexpected guest. "You'll need to work on your reaction time, gentlemen. I'm afraid that you would both be dead if I had foul intentions in mind."

"Professor Dumbledore," greeted Remus, relaxing his pose.

"Remus," Dumbledore nodded. Turning to the other wizard, he also acknowledged him with a nod, "Sirius."

"Is everything okay with Harry?" Sirius asked, his first thoughts for the unannounced visit turning dark.

"Harry is fine," Dumbledore assured with a genial smile. "He arrived safely in Little Whinging with his aunt and uncle earlier this afternoon."

Sirius crossed his arms in discomfort, looking down at the floor in a poor attempt to hide his discontent. "That's good."

"It is," Dumbledore agreed mildly. Sirius could see, looking up through his lashes, that the elder wizard wasn't fooled. "I'm afraid I don't have much time. I need an update on the status of the Order members. Were you able to contact them all, Sirius?"

"All but those at the Ministry," he replied. "Afraid that I can't visit that esteemed institution with the current price on my head. Everyone is waiting for your orders on when and where to meet."

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "Very good. I've taken care of contacting those at the Ministry. As to the matter of gathering everyone together, that is proving to be more of a dilemma. Most of the places we used in the past belonged to members who are no longer with us."

Remus looked embarrassed as he glanced around his small home. "I would offer the cabin, but…"

"We have a few more members than your home could comfortably fit, I agree," Dumbledore concluded. "The Weasleys offered use of the Burrow, but I think it would be a little conspicuous. Sirius, have you any thoughts?"

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, shifting his eyes away from Dumbledore. He had an idea that he knew what the old wizard was looking for. He wanted to help the Order, but to go back…he started to speak and felt his throat close. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was he a Gryffindor, or wasn't he? What had he to fear from an old house? It couldn't hurt to go back for meetings, could it? Clearing his throat roughly, he tried again. "There's always Grimmauld Place."

The bright smile on Dumbledore's face did nothing to dissuade him that this was the old man's plan all along. "An excellent idea, Sirius. I believe that there are several rooms in your old home, am I correct?"

He looked briefly to Remus, noting his friend's look of sympathy at returning to a place he had sworn never to revisit, before hesitatingly replying, "Yes. As an ancestral home for the Blacks, it has plenty of rooms. If some Order members need it as a place to crash, I suppose it could be used for that." He shrugged. "I can't say what condition the old place is in, though."

Albus Dumbledore watched him with a look of polite inquiry. "So, you wouldn't mind, then, if we used your ancestral home as headquarters for the Order?"

Sirius barked out short laugh as he thought of the irony. "I would much rather we burned it to the ground, but to use my mother's house to plan attacks against her precious Dark Lord? Knock yourself out."

"Excellent," the headmaster replied. He clapped his aged hands once, signaling that it was settled. "Naturally, I will have to perform the Fidelius Charm on its location. I will serve as its Secret Keeper, if you've no objections?"

"I want as little to do with that house as possible," Sirius replied with a wave. He idly began making his way back toward the kitchen. "Do what you want with it."

"Sirius," Dumbledore addressed him, making him pause. The younger wizard didn't like Dumbledore's tone. "As the Black heir and sole owner of Grimmauld Place, the ancestral wards require that you be present for everything done to and within the house. Once the charm is in effect, it will require that someone be there at all hours to keep headquarters protected. And given Mr. Pettigrew's immense knowledge of your talents…"

Sirius looked at him with dawning horror. A glance at Remus's wide eyes confirmed that he was thinking along the same lines. "He knows that I'm an animagus." He closed his eyes as he thought through the implications of that statement. _Bloody fuck_. He should have killed that rat when he had the chance. "I can never go out on missions, can I?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Until we can clear your name, I'm afraid not."

He sat for a moment in silence, letting it sink in. Once again, he would be a prisoner in his own home. His mother would be thrilled. Remus asked, "How soon is the first Order meeting?"

"We need to hold it as soon as possible to establish where we are on intel and resources. I think it would be best if the Weasleys and Miss Granger came to stay, as well. As close as Ron and Hermione are to Harry, they will also be targets for Death Eater attacks."

"And Harry?" Sirius asked, allowing hope to fill him that at least some good could come from his voluntary incarceration.

"Once we are further into the summer, yes," Dumbledore amended. "He is safest if he stays with his family for now."

_He'd be safer if he was with his_ real _family_ , Sirius thought bitterly, but let it go unvoiced. Seeing no point in putting off the unwanted task any longer, Sirius moved forward, grabbing his threadbare jacket from the rack by the door. Without looking back at the other two occupants of the room, he opened the front door and he said as he walked out, "Let's get started, then."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I'm aware that certain events take place later, but for this story, I'm moving them up. Any direct/recognizable verbiage comes from _Order of the Phoenix_ , which belongs to the brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling.

Maia was getting impatient. Patience, itself, had never been a virtue of hers, and the last four years living among brash Gryffindors had rubbed off on her in a not-so-good way. She had sent a Patronus to Dumbledore on the first night of her arrival, a week ago, to tell him where she was staying, but had not heard another word from him.

Erasing the Grangers' memories had been a far simpler process than she thought it would be. Although she felt some minor regret, for they had truly been quite loving to her as their only daughter and she – as Hermione – had loved them in return, she knew that it was better for the Muggle couple in the long run if they didn't have any connection with her. She took away all memory of Hermione Granger and replaced their identities with new ones as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. The couple would recall deciding to sell their dental practice in London so that they could start fresh in Australia. Maia took a few small mementos, mainly of the picture variety, to remember her time with the Muggle couple.

The last week had been spent waiting for word on where she was to go next. She had been staying in a room at the Leaky Cauldron due to its ready access to both Diagon Alley and Muggle London. She had been fortunate that she had been alone in a dressing room at Madam Malkin's when the Dark Lord's next general summons came. She had to wait for the burning to dissipate before she could reapply her glamour, and when she did, she had hastily paid for her purchases and left. Her next stop was to restock on potions supplies, as she had decided that having a ready supply of Polyjuice to hide her distinctive Malfoy features would be vital until she could come up with a more "permanent" solution. Getting together with Fred and George Weasley to brainstorm seemed like a better idea by the minute.

Getting to her private vault in Gringotts proved little trouble once she gained a private audience with Griphook, the goblin in charge of her family's vaults. After she had proven her identity and was assured of his silence, she was taken down to the vault she had opened just after graduating from Hogwarts. She had taken all money from her mother's inheritance, plus the monetary "reward" her father had gifted her upon gaining favor with the Dark Lord, and used it to start a new account that neither her father nor brother could access. Though the money she was due as a Malfoy female for her dowry was still sitting protected in the Malfoy family vault, she had more than enough gold to allow for comfortable living for a few lifetimes.

She had begun the process of brewing in her temporary room to fill her empty hours, but currently had to wait 24 hours for the potion to simmer before proceeding with the next step. She didn't wish to risk another trip to Diagon Alley in case another summons came and she was recognized, so she opted to stick to Muggle London for her remaining errands. She elected to retain her modified appearance, though, just to be safe.

Whether as Hermione Granger or as herself, Maia had never been a fan of extravagant shopping trips; however, she had taken a particular liking to the denims and lingerie found in Muggle fashion, finding them infinitely more comfortable and flexible when compared to proper wizarding attire. Her trip may have taken longer than she liked, but she was satisfied with the restocking of her wardrobe. It had certainly worked up her appetite.

It was as she was finishing her solitary meal at a small café near to the Muggle-side entrance of the Leaky that she began to think of her options for establishing a permanent residence. For as long as she remained Hermione Granger, student, she wouldn't be able to claim guardianship of Harry. She knew that Harry had, rather desperately, wished to live with Sirius Black for a couple years now, and she wouldn't begrudge him that if they could find a way to clear Black's name. Time was of the essence, for she didn't want Harry to stay with the Dursleys any longer than necessary.

She sat back in her chair and frowned, her eyes going unfocused as her musings claimed her complete attention. Why _was_ Harry expected to return to the Dursleys' each summer? She could understand that he wasn't able to live with either Black or herself at the moment, but why couldn't the Weasleys take him in as his temporary magical guardians? She knew that the entire family would welcome him with open arms, and he always ended up at the Burrow by the end of the summer, anyway. Why send him back to a family that neither wanted nor appreciated him?

Lily had tried for years to keep some sort of relationship with her awful sister, and Maia knew how it hurt her friend that their relationship further degenerated with each year she spent at Hogwarts. The introduction to her future brother-in-law, Vernon Dursley, with his views on all things he deemed abnormal was the final nail in that coffin. Lily's parents died in an automobile accident before she could marry James, and she desperately wanted "Tuney" there to share in her happiness. That wish was, unfortunately, for naught.

For a woman like Lily, who loved those she held as family so deeply, it would only hurt her to see how Petunia Dursley treated her own flesh and blood. After all, Maia thought with a sharp pain in her chest, Lily was more than willing to sacrifice her own life for Harry. She highly doubted that Petunia would have the courage to do the same.

Time stopped for a moment as Maia froze. For being the "smartest witch of her age," Maia felt incredibly stupid. _Lily's sacrifice._ That was why Harry had to live with his maternal relatives. Dumbledore had cashed in on old magic to protect Harry by having him live with those that shared Lily's blood.

It certainly hadn't been a bad idea, on his part; at least, not for the last 14 years. Her mind spun dizzily as she rapidly took recent events into consideration, her knuckles turning white as she tightly gripped the edge of her table. The Dark Lord had used Harry's blood – _Lily's blood_ – to bring himself back. He could touch Harry with impunity, or so Harry had relayed. If the Dark Lord now shared Lily's protection – that meant that Harry was no longer safe with his Muggle relatives.

Maia swiftly rose to her feet, throwing down enough money to cover her meal, and grabbed her few bags before departing the café. Dipping into the adjacent alley, she shrunk her baggage and stowed it away in her pocket. Knowing that the Dark Lord was at large, his whereabouts and plans unknown to her and Dumbledore remaining stubbornly mute, she couldn't take the risk of leaving Harry where he was another day. He would just have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron with her, at least until Dumbledore got his old arse moving on what they were to do next. Just as she settled her mind to Apparate, she realized that she had never been to the Dursleys' home in Little Whinging. _Shite!_

Her mind scrambled as she tried to think of who she could go to that wouldn't ask too many questions. Dumbledore and McGonagall were obviously out. She couldn't ask Arthur Weasley, as he would likely want to wait for Dumbledore before acting. Ron was underage, and she didn't know where Sirius Black was to ask him. Of the people she could recall that either knew where Harry lived or that had personally been there, that left… _Fred and George_. She closed her eyes and clearly pictured the twins' room in the Burrow before Disapparating with an echoing _crack_.

"Bloody hell!" A surprised expletive shouted to the sounds of scrambling. Maia opened her eyes and saw both twins slowly rising from their hastily selected hiding places behind an open wardrobe door and around the foot of one twin bed. "Hermione?! What are you doing here?"

"I need your help," she said firmly, looking at Fred. Her eyes quickly turned to George. "And the questions will need to wait. Harry's in trouble."

Their expressions of surprise rapidly changed to determination. "What do you need?" Fred asked.

"I need for you to Apparate me to the Dursleys' home in Little Whinging," she explained. "I've never been or I would have already gone myself."

"Wait, did you just…" George started before Maia interrupted.

"No questions, remember? Please, can we hurry?" The sense of urgency in her gut was urging her to speed this along.

"Sure," Fred said, stepping forward. He grabbed her hand in his as George clasped his own on Fred's shoulder. "Here we go."

Fred had done well to Apparate the three of them on the side of the house, away from prying eyes. Maia noted that the sun was already beginning to set, and held out hope that it meant Harry would be home for a quick retrieval. Walking briskly up to the front door, Fred and George flanking her, she raised her fist and knocked loudly.

It took a few minutes, but when the door opened, it was to reveal Vernon Dursley in a short-sleeved button up and cotton shorts. He began to offer them greeting before he took in the appearance of just who was standing on his front stoop. "Yes, can I help…YOU!" His face rapidly turned an alarming shade of puce as he pointed a shaking finger at the twins, who looked back in feigned innocence. "Your lot are not welcome here! Go, before I call the police!"

This was not a delay that Maia needed. Putting on her most polite mask, she said, "My name is Mai- Hermione Granger. I'm a friend of Harry's. Can I please speak with him?"

" _That boy_ is not here right now. Chased him off when I caught him lurking in the hydrangea bushes…claimed he was listening to the news, as if _your lot_ would ever feature…"

What little patience Maia had was used up. She interrupted, "So Harry is not here, then?"

"Were you not listening? Just like _that boy_ …"

"Thank you for your time," Maia said through gritted teeth, her hand lovingly stroking the wand by her side as she contemplated all the ways she could hex the ignorant man. "Come along, Fred, George. We need to find Harry."

The twins followed Maia down the short driveway to the street where she cast a Notice-Me-Not charm over the three of them. "Hermione," Fred said slowly, "I don't think you should be doing so much magic outside of school."

"Why don't you let us do it?" George suggested.

"I'm of age," Maia said distractedly, looking first one way and then the other down the residential street, trying to decide where to go. "Even so, I removed the trace from my wand so the Ministry can't track my magic a week ago." There had been some benefits from belonging to the politically savvy Malfoys. Placing her wand in her palm and directing her intent to adjust the spell to her needs, she said, "Point Me."

The tip of her wand pointed to the left and Maia started in that direction, adjusting her course as her wand shifted its bearing. She ignored the mumbled conversation at her back between Fred and George and concentrated on finding Harry. The sun had well set and the lamp posts flickered on to illuminate the street. She shivered and drew her free arm around her waist just as she heard the pounding of footsteps in an alley ahead. Her eyes widened and she heard Fred curse as they took in the sight of three dementors eagerly following the sounds of their prey. Without thought, she whipped up her wand and ran after the hooded wraiths. "Hermione!"

As she skidded to a stop in the alley, she saw that two dementors had cornered Harry while the third started to perform the Kiss on the quivering hulk of a boy lying on the dirty ground. Her cry was an echo to Harry's, both shouting a loud, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " A sleek panther erupted from her wand and chased away the dementor feeding off the prone boy while Harry's stag ran off the other two. Keeping her wand out, she jogged over to the boy moaning on the ground, noting that Harry was leaning heavily against the brick wall at this back with his eyes closed.

"No time to rest now, Harry," she said firmly, causing him to start in surprise. "Can you walk?"

"Hermione?" he asked in confusion. Fred and George joined them at time. "Fred? George? What are you all doing here?"

"Later, Harry. Where were you two?" she asked harshly.

George came over to where the Hulk (as Maia deemed him) lay and began to lift the now shaking boy from the ground. Fred clenched his fists for a moment, anger suffusing his features, before he joined George, both supporting the boy on either side. "Neither of us know how to cast a Patronus, Hermione. What would you have had us do?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration as she gritted her teeth. Standing to her feet, she walked over to Harry, who was pale but now firmly standing without support. "We need to get the two of you back to the house. It's no longer safe for you to stay in Little Whinging, Harry, so I'm taking you with me." The group began their slow trek out of the alley, Maia looking cautiously around the corners to make sure their way was clear. "Keep your wand out, Harry. We don't know that they've gone."

They were nearly back to the Dursleys' when there was a loud _crack_. The smell of stale liquor and tobacco permeated the air as a squat man in a tattered overcoat appeared directly in their path. He had a look of surprise in his baggy eyes as he took in the bedraggled group of teenagers in front of him. Maia noted that he clutched the silvery material of an Invisibility Cloak in his grubby fist. Maia had a vague recollection of this man as a member from the Order, recognizing him from the meetings she'd attended while delivering reports in the distant past. Not remembering his name and choosing, instead, to err on the side of caution, she pointed her wand in his face and harshly asked, "Who are you?"

He went cross-eyed looking at the tip of her wand, before tracing it back up her arm to her serious face. "Was there a shift change, then? What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"A shift…" Maia muttered incredulously, her eyebrows rising to meet her hairline. Dumbledore had the Order watching Harry and this drunken fool had been slacking on the job! "If you were the one on shift, then where were you when _dementors_ were attacking Harry?!"

"Dementors?" repeated the man, aghast. "Dementors, here?"

"He's a bright one, eh, George?" Fred mumbled. Speaking louder, he addressed the group, "Look, this sod's not getting any lighter. Can we get moving?"

"Blimey…" the man said, looking closer at the boy sagging between the two gingers. "Blimey, I…"

"Enough," Maia said in disgust. "Someone needs to tell Dumbledore what happened, and since I need the others, I suppose that will have to be you." When he continued to stand there dumbly, she sent a sharp Stinging Hex his way. "Get moving! The Ministry will have already noted this!"

" _Shite_ , that hurt!" he said, rubbing his arm. At her threatening look, he exclaimed, "A'right, I'm going, I'm going!" He disappeared again with another loud _crack_.

"I hope that Dumbledore murders him," Maia spat vehemently, the tips of her hair beginning to spark in agitation. The group made quick progress for the rest of the trip, this time walking through the front door without preamble.

"Diddy, is that you? It's about time, I was getting quite – quite – DIDDY! What's happened to you?" The twins quickly stepped aside as Petunia Dursley rushed forward to flutter around her son. Without the additional support, the boy – Dudley – swayed on the spot for a moment before bending over and vomiting all over the doormat. Fred and George hastily retreated further in disgust.

"DIDDY! What's happened to you? Vernon! VERNON!" came her increasingly panicked cries.

The portly man ambled out of the living room, his walrus mustache twitching in annoyance before he hurried over to help his hysterical wife. The three shuffled awkwardly around the pool of sick, trying to navigate their way down the hall to the kitchen while rapidly shooting one question after another, trying to determine how their precious son ended up in such a state. It was at the question to pinpoint the culprit that Dudley pointed a shaking finger at the group standing silently in the entryway.

"YOU AGAIN!" Vernon roared. "What did you do to my boy!"

Maia was not going to stand by and take that kind of abuse from the infuriated Muggle. "We _saved his life_ , if you must know!"

"He wouldn't have needed saving if you lot had just left, like I told you to!" Vernon roared back. "What did they do to you, son?"

"Diddy," Petunia jumped in, "did they use – their _things_?" Maia could just barely hear one of the twins comment in disgusted humor that his _thing_ wouldn't go anywhere near the quivering boy.

Dudley nodded, looking as though he were seriously thinking about being sick again. Maia waved her wand at the first mess, cleaning it from the carpet. Each of the three Dursleys gave a dramatic flinch. "PUT THAT _THING_ AWAY!" Vernon demanded.

Harry shot forward, his fists clenched at his sides. Although he really did try to keep his temper in check, he was fed up. "We didn't do anything! It wasn't us! It was – "

Just then, a large screech owl came swooping in from the open window in the living room, dropping an official looking envelope at Harry's feet. Its parcel delivered, the owl gently swooped back around and out the window, flying out over the garden.

Harry stood frozen, staring blankly at the envelope, as his uncle went raging on about owls. When he made no move to pick it up, Maia bent forward and retrieved it. Seeing that he wasn't going to object, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter bearing the seal of the Ministry at the top. Reading just loudly enough for Harry, Fred, and George to hear, she began, "Dear Mr. Potter…"

Her outrage increased with every word she read. They had the _audacity_ to expel him for a spell cast in self-defense?!

"Bloody hell, Harry," George said pityingly.

Maia swiftly refolded the letter, slipping it into her pocket. They would deal with it later. Seeing the look of absolute shock on Harry's face, she placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. "Don't worry about it, Harry. We'll get it taken care of. They can't expel you for this."

"He's been expelled?" Vernon asked with glee. The serious expressions on each of their faces confirmed it. Harry suddenly decided to move, turning away to begin heading up the stairs. Dudley moaned, causing Vernon to look at Harry's retreating back. "Where d'you think you're going! Get back here!"

Harry pulled his wand and pointed it at his uncle. "Stay out of my way, or I will jinx you."

Maia sighed in exasperation. "Harry, put it away. Right now, their charges are complete bollocks. If you do anything now…"

She was interrupted when a dazed and ruffle-feathered Errol came crashing through the open window, dropping another letter. George darted forward to collect the letter, while Fred helped to set their family owl straight. George's eyes flew through the missive from his father, and summarized, "Harry, Dad says to stay here and not do any more magic. Dumbledore's at the Ministry."

Maia scoffed, causing all three boys to look at her. "I agree that he shouldn't do anymore magic, but he's _not_ staying here."

"Hermione," Fred said slowly, "You said that Harry was in trouble. How did you know this was going to happen?"

Harry looked startled at the question and turned to look at her expectantly. Maia shifted and crossed her arms. "I didn't know there would be _dementors_ here tonight. I simply knew that it was no longer safe for Harry to stay here. The Dark…You-Know-Who can find him here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, just as Vernon inquired, "What is a dementy-whatsit?"

They were all startled when Petunia supplied the answer to her husband's question. "Dementors guard the wizard prison, Azkaban." As she finished speaking the words, her hands flew up to cover her mouth in horror.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked in wide-eyed astonishment. He had never heard anything to indicate that his aunt was familiar with the wizarding world to which he belonged.

Petunia looked in fearful apology at Vernon before lowering her hands. "I heard – _that boy_ – tell _her_ – about it, years ago."

Maia seethed. "Her _name_ was _Lily_." She advanced on the older woman, her ire shooting sparks from her eyes. She barely felt it as her Mark began to burn on her forearm, so caught up was she in the moment. "Though after the way you treated her, you don't _deserve_ to say her name!"

Vernon was trying to pull his wife back from the advancing witch. Petunia felt all the blood drain from her face as she watched the coloring of the young witch fade away, her brown curls straightening into a platinum blonde sheet, her skin paling, and her eyes lightening to an electric blue. Though it had been well over a decade, Petunia still recognized the witch before her as one close to her late sister. " _Y-you!_ "

Maia stopped, seeing the horrified recognition fill Petunia Dursley eyes. From the corner of her vision, she could see three wands raise and point at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?" Harry demanded.

"Harry, put your wand down," Maia said gently. She held her arms out at her sides, showing that she had put her wand away. "I've done nothing to Hermione. I _am_ Hermione."

Fred and George both narrowed their eyes at the witch. The latter accused, "You look more like a Malfoy, to me."

Maia shrugged nonchalantly, not taking her eyes off Harry. "I am that, too."

"You were in the Hospital Wing that night," Harry said, his eyes taking in her features. "Dumbledore called you Miss Malfoy."

"That is my name, yes," she said in aggravation. "But for the last 15 years, I've gone by Hermione Granger." Seeing that he was no closer to believing her, she growled and said, "Ask me anything. Something that only Hermione would know."

Fred and George watched the interchange between the two closely. Harry, keeping his wand steady, asked, "What potion did Hermione brew in our second year and what went wrong?"

Maia crossed her arms defensively and huffed. "There was _nothing_ wrong with that Polyjuice potion. You and Ron transformed just fine. I had plucked a cat hair off Millicent Bulstrode and made a partial feline transformation. I was stuck in the Hospital Wing for a month to correct it," she concluded, looking down in embarrassment.

When Harry relaxed his stance, his face taking on more of a confused look, Fred and George dropped their wands as well. George whistled as Fred asked for the two of them, "You brewed Polyjuice potion in your _second_ year?" At her nod, he looked at George and nodded in awe.

"Merlin, Granger…err…Malfoy…uh…" Harry grimaced at the use of her surname.

"I promise…" she started, before Vernon interrupted with a shout.

"BLOODY OWLS!" A third zoomed through the still-open window and deposited a third missive on the floor. Harry took the initiative this time, ripping through the thick envelope and rapidly reading the letters contents.

"Well, Harry? What does it say?" George asked, his fist clenched tightly around his wand at his side.

"I'm not expelled," he started. Before the twins could get too far into their celebratory cries, he amended, "At least not yet. It will be decided at my hearing next month."

"Why do you have to go to a hearing?" Vernon asked.

"Because I cast a Patronus charm…"

Vernon pointed his stubby finger at Harry and cried, "So you _did_ do something to Dudley!"

"I _didn't_! I cast the spell, but only to fight off the dementors!" Harry yelled back.

"Didn't…see…no…dementoids…" Dudley muttered. Petunia started to flutter over her son again, and Vernon looked back at Harry smugly.

"He's a Muggle," Maia snapped, her tone almost condescending. "He _wouldn't_ have seen anything."

"Sounds just like Malfoy," George muttered.

Maia turned to him, her hands placed firmly on her hips in preparation for her retort when a fourth owl flew in with a _whoosh_. Vernon through his hands in the air and yelled, "Enough – effing – owls! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"

Harry was already pulling the letter from the owl's leg, reading a short note that simply told him that Sirius had been informed by Mr. Weasley what had happened. Once again, he was instructed to stay put. His fist tightened around the note, crumbling it between his fingers. When he relayed what it said, he turned back to Hermione – Miss Malfoy – whoever she was. He would trust her for now, but he wanted answers. "You said that I was no longer safe here. Explain."

"It's a theory," she started. At Fred and George's indignant looks, she stated smartly, "And how often have you known me – _Hermione_ – to be wrong?" At their silence, she continued. Posing a question to Harry, because she knew that leading him to the answer would better help him understand her reasoning than dictating to him, she asked, "What did Dumbledore tell you about why Professor Quirrell couldn't touch you?"

Harry looked startled, not expecting that question, but immediately replied, "It was because of my mother. Because she sacrificed herself to save me. Her love protected me." He heard a small gasp from the direction of relatives but ignored it.

"Right, Harry," Maia said with a proud smile. "Her protection was in your blood. When _Tuney_ ," she smirked maliciously when the older woman flinched at the old nickname, "accepted you into her home, it sealed the covenant set by Lily's sacrifice." She paused, her eyes flashing in apology, before continuing on. "And how did you get the cut on your forearm the night of the third task?"

Harry inhaled sharply. "Wormtail cut me. He used my blood – _blood of the enemy, forcibly taken_ – to bring Voldemort back."

" _He's back?_ " came Petunia's strangled whisper.

Vernon looked in confusion between his wife and Harry. "Volde–…wait. I've heard that name. That was the one who…"

Harry looked at him, his face blank. "Murdered my parents, yes."

His uncle didn't move for a moment. Petunia, oddly enough, wasn't looking at Harry in disdain for the first time that he could recall. In fact, her eyes were wide and fearful. He spoke directly to her this time. "He came back two weeks ago. I saw him."

He turned back to the female witch waiting patiently for him to finish. In the couple minutes that he spoke with his relatives, his mind had been connecting the dots. His shoulders sagged in an odd combination of resignation and relief when he concluded, "My mother's sacrifice can't protect me anymore. He can find me here."

"Yes," Maia said, glad that he had caught on so quickly. If only he could put that same quick mind to his homework, a small part of her thought with a sigh. "And it's why you need to go to your room now and pack all of your belongings. You won't be coming back."

Harry gave a slow nod in acceptance and started to make his way back up the stairs. He heard the echo of footsteps behind him and found Fred and George following along, stating that they could pack a lot faster if they used magic.

Maia watched the trio make their way upstairs and turned back to the Dursleys where they huddled together. She noted with amusement that they never made it out of the hallway, and Dudley, it seemed, had finally given up and sagged to the floor. She had never met Vernon Dursley before this night, but he was everything Lily had described and more. Petunia, however, was just as bad as she remembered. Despite all of that, she knew, without a doubt, that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters would come after them the moment they learned of their connection to Harry. She made a decision then, knowing it was what Lily would have wanted.

"I'm going to make you an offer," she said succinctly. "One that I don't think you deserve, given the way you've treated Harry, but Lily wouldn't want to see you hurt." She spoke directly to Petunia, given their past acquaintance. "The Dark Lord will come after you to get to Harry, regardless of the lack of feeling you have for him. I won't erase your memories, as it won't do you any good, but I can offer you the means to get out of the country. You will not be safe if you stay here."

Vernon started to speak out to say that they would never accept help from someone like her, but Petunia's hand on his arm silenced him. He looked at her in confusion, but she continued to watch the witch in front of her. "What will happen to… _him_?"

Maia gave a short, barking laugh. "You can't even say your own nephew's name, can you?" She shook her head in disbelief. "He deserved so much better than you, and now he will have the chance to get it." 

She reached in her pocket and withdrew the leather purse she used to separate her wizarding from her Muggle currency. It was fortunate that she had gotten some money exchanged at Gringotts so that she could shop in Muggle London. She threw the purse at their feet, and said dismissively, "That should be enough for you to start fresh. I'd recommend staying away from England. We're at the beginning of another war, and you don't want to be among its casualties. With your connection to Harry, I guarantee you would be."

She saw the owl, and the Howler it carried, as she turned around and walked toward the stairs. She even recognized Dumbledore's voice come from the red missive, stating, "REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA." She didn't care what his last was; she could guess that it had to do with keeping Harry here. Too bad that Dumbledore wasn't going to get what he wanted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.

Maia purposefully ignored the tension in the room when she went up the stairs to join the three wizards. She had noted no pictures of Harry on the walls – though there were certainly many of his obese cousin – and his room was devoid of any personal touches that indicated he lived there for two months of the year. Lily had been so proud of her son and took pictures constantly in his first year, several of which were copied for Maia to keep in secret. Her chest clenched tightly to think of what might have been – what _should_ have been – if only Harry had his parents. Grief threatened to overwhelm her once again, before she shoved it back down into the pressure cooker in her gut containing her more volatile emotions.

The click of Harry's school trunk brought Maia out of her reverie. Seeing that he had packed whatever he deemed his, she looked at him and asked, "All ready, then?"

At his weary nod, Maia whipped out her wand – the action, she noticed in her periphery, having caused a slight flinching from the twins – and shrank his luggage and Hedwig's empty cage. "Put those in your pocket then, Harry. It's time to go." Turning to the twins, she suggested, "It might be better for you to go home. I'm sure your absence has been noted by now."

"No can do, Granger –" said Fred. George quickly picked up his thought.

"– Malfoy. You pop in our room, unannounced –"

"– Which is quite rude, mind you. Who knows what state of dishabille we might have been in? If you really wanted to see us starkers –"

"– All you had to do was ask," George stated with a wink. "However, given tonight's unexpected revelations –"

"– We believe you owe us an explanation," Fred concluded firmly, his arms crossed over his chest to emphasize his statement. She admitted that if she hadn't known him better, this stance with his Beater's build could be viewed as slightly intimidating. "So, I believe we'll be joining you until we can get some answers."

Maia clenched her jaw briefly before letting out a huff of air in resignation. "Fine. Perhaps your presence, in addition to Harry's, will finally get things moving." Turning to Harry, she held out her hand and instructed, "Hold on tight, Harry. This will be a little uncomfortable."

He hesitated a moment before he clasped her hand in his own. Looking at her cautiously, Harry asked with a nod to the floor, "What about them?"

Interpreting that he was inquiring after their safety, even after the years of neglect and abuse – _he really has so much of Lily in him_ , Maia thought wistfully – she stated, "They'll be safe so long as they take my advice. I've given them some small means to get out of the country. The rest is up to them."

With a nod of understanding, his jaw set, Harry tentatively held her hand and waited. She turned back to the waiting twins and said, "Apparate to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. I've a room there, and I'll need to pack." Once they silent gave their assent, Maia twisted her body and pulled Harry into Apparition.

The trip lasted less than a minute, but as a first-time traveler (especially of the side-along variety), Harry found the experience was stomach wrenching. It had been years since Maia had Apparated with any frequency, but it was very much like riding a broom; it wasn't something long forgotten. Unfortunately, Harry was quite unused to this form of travel and found himself losing what little sat in his stomach on the bricks behind the Leaky Cauldron. The twins showed up mid-wretch, and hastily stepped away to avoid the splatter. Maia placed kept a gentle hand on his shoulder to support him, should his equilibrium be suffering as well.

Notably paler but steady, Harry stood back to his full height and, while avoiding the eyes of the twins in embarrassment, nodded his head to have Maia lead the way.

"If you've got your cloak handy, I'd recommend putting it on," Maia instructed. "We'd like to avoid any unnecessary complications. I doubt it will be long before the Order shows up, as it is." She paused, before muttering with a frown. "That is, if Mundungus delivered my message…"

Harry looked at her curiously but pulled out his cloak as directed. "The Order?"

Maia shook her head as she turned and walked through the back entrance to the pub. "Not here."

The male trio followed behind her as she quickly made her through the dingy back hallway that led to the main room of the pub and up the main stairs. It took a moment for the few curious glances to register with her distracted mind, but when it did, she cursed internally. She had never reset her glamour; her hair color, alone, was not common outside of her notorious family and was bound to attract unwanted attention.

Her pace quickened, causing the boys to break into a light jog to keep up with her. She pulled out her wand and began casting unlocking charms for the minimal wards she was permitted to set by Tom as she approached the door before vanishing into the room. She held the door open, hastening them inside, before firmly shutting it again. Her blonde head fell forward with a loud thud as she closed her eyes in frustration. All her careful planning this week, and she threw it away in one night. Perhaps no one of note had noticed. "Idiot," she muttered. They would have to move more quickly than she had originally planned, then.

Her wand still pulled, she turned to cast Harry and the twins a slightly glance before saying, "I'm sorry, boys, but the explanation is going to have to wait until we're somewhere safer. This locale has been compromised."

"We didn't do anything!" Fred said defensively. George looked slightly mutinous, suspecting that she was trying to put them off. "What's the rush?"

Maia looked at him pointedly. "Surely you have noticed that my features are not exactly matching the Hermione Granger who would have checked into this room? In fact, they're rather distinctive in a way that connects me to a well-known magical family. For all of your jokes and pranks, I know you're smarter than that, Fred Weasley."

Harry had pulled off the silvery cloak and looked at her shrewdly. "Why is that, by the way? I've never known someone's features to change like that. It certainly wasn't Polyjuice."

Fred and George looked on the bespectacled boy with renewed interest. "Oh yes, the second year Polyjuice experiment. You have personal experience with that, too?"

"Who do you think I brewed it for?" Maia asked crossly. "It was hardly to try my hand at alternatives for human to animal transfiguration." She would never live that incident down. It was bad enough that Harry and Ron had seen it. Madam Pomfrey had been kind enough not to say anything; students got up to all sorts of mischief in a magical school. Professor Sna- _oh no_. Maia closed her eyes briefly in mortification. Merlin help her if Severus remembered to connect that incident with her…which he would, as the bloody bastard never forgot anything…

Opening her eyes again, determined to think later of what leverage she could use to entice Severus never to mention that debacle, she waved her wand and all her benign belongings began to shrink and fold themselves into an open trunk at the foot of her bed. "Now, what did I say about explanations? If you're going to stick around, make yourselves useful! See what you can do about packing up those potion ingredients. And be _careful!_ "

While her three guests jumped to, Maia twirled her wand and cast her Patronus. The luminous panther from earlier in the night made its reappearance, its long tail twitching as it waited for her instructions. The twins, having already seen it once, paid it little mind as they continued packing. As far as they were concerned, all the intrigue was great fun, but they wanted answers; the sooner they were done, the better. Harry, however, had been too busy facing off with his own dementors earlier and could only now appreciate the powerful animal.

Maia looked at her Patronus and clearly instructed, "To whomever is currently present at Order headquarters: Harry is safe and is with me at the location discussed earlier this week. Tell Dumbledore to get his arse moving and come get us."

Harry could see the muscles in the cat's legs bunch as it launched itself through the wall to its unknown location. Maia turned and began the process of vanishing many of the unfinished potions brewing away on the room's wooden table with disgust. If he had any doubt left that this pale woman was Hermione, her utter abhorrence at all the potions work _wasted_ with this hasty need to relocate negated it. A few were left untouched, suggesting to him that they were either safe for travel or were finished and just needed to be bottled.

As the foursome worked to pack up her remaining possessions, Harry asked, "What do we do now?"

Maia looked at him blankly and said, "We wait."

* * *

It was a good thing that the large Persian rug residing in the Black family library was already in poor condition – not that Sirius truly cared – for the pacing he had been doing for the last hour would surely leave permanent tracks in its faded design. He wished, not for the first time, that Mundungus Fletcher had not fled as soon as Dumbledore departed for the Ministry. He could do with someone to take his anger and anxiety out on.

The objective of the Order meeting that evening had been simple: inventory what would be needed in the long-neglected headquarters and inform approved members of its location. The Fidelius Charm was already in place, and now only knowledgeable members could enter the premises. Molly and Arthur Weasley had just been informed of their need to relocate to Grimmauld Place for the summer – much to Molly's distaste, if her expression was anything to go by – when Mundungus Apparated into the front parlor. He had stumbled drunkenly through the hall, waking the Godric-forsaken portrait of his dearly departed mother, before crashing into the kitchen where the meeting was being held.

His words were slurred and panicky as he gave his report. At first, none of the present members could understand what he was saying until one name – "'arry" – had been offered. Sirius had leapt to his feet, his hands fisting in the whiskey fragrant lapels of the shorter wizard's coat as he demanded to know what was wrong with Harry. _What was the bloody fool doing here if Harry was in trouble?_

Remus and Kingsley Shacklebolt had to physically remove Sirius from their unexpected guest. After a few deep breaths, his eyes looking nervously at an agitated Black, Mundungus had revealed that Harry and his cousin were being escorted by a forceful bird and twin gingers after claiming an attack by dementors. Molly had started then, knowing without a doubt that the "twin gingers" had to have been her own. The silent exchange between spouses saw Arthur staying at Headquarters to get more information and Molly Apparating home to check on her brood.

Dumbledore had stood at attention and called for silence, which was promptly given. He had dispatched Kingsley to the Ministry to find out what had happened, if they were aware of anything, and it wasn't but ten minutes later that he returned with the report that Harry had been expelled for the use of underage magic in the presence of a Muggle. Sirius wanted nothing more than to go to Harry but was reminded rather forcefully by Dumbledore of the consequences should he be seen. Sirius had shot him a murderous look before storming off to his current post in the library.

He sent off a short missive to Harry instructing him to stay with his aunt and uncle once Arthur came up to confirm that Dumbledore had gone to the Ministry to set things right; the former chose to follow the Headmaster to provide additional assistance, if needed. Since then, he had no further word on what action the Ministry was taking or if Harry was safe. Remus had come up to join him, though he suspected it was more to babysit; the wolf's presence did nothing to ease Sirius's increasing agitation. The book Remus held in his lap where he sat on the worn settee was more prop than distraction, if his fixed gaze was any indication. The tense set to his shoulders told Sirius that the wolf was just as worried as he.

Sirius looked to the open doorway once more, hearing nothing but silence echoing through the decrepit house, before letting out a huff of air. Clenching his fists, he began to stride purposefully for the door. "I'm going, Moony. Don't try to stop me."

Remus lifted his eyes from the unread pages in his lap, but otherwise remained seated. His voice was firm, a sign of just how tightly in control he was holding himself. "Just wait a few more minutes, Sirius. Dumbledore will send word soon. Harry will be fine…he _is_ fine." The last statement almost sounded like he was trying to convince and reassure himself as much as Sirius.

Sirius threw his hands up before dragging them harshly through his shoulder-length, shaggy hair. " _Dementors_ , Moony! What the _bloody hell_ were _dementors_ doing in Little Whinging?!"

Remus kept silent, knowing that Sirius knew the answer just as well as he did. If the dementors had left Azkaban, they must have been doing so under the orders of one man. "He knows how to cast a Patronus, Pads. I taught him; he saved _you_ with it just a year ago. Mundungus said he saw Harry after the fact, so you know he wasn't hurt."

"That isn't the point," Sirius barked, pointing his finger at Remus. "If they can get to him there, he isn't safe. He has no protection living with those _people_ …"

"We have people rotating through to keep an eye on him –"

"Fat lot of good that did tonight, eh, Remus?" Sirius felt his ire rising again at the knowledge that Mundungus had left his post, and Harry was forced to defend himself. He walked a short distance and fell back into a dusty armchair by the dead fireplace, his head collapsing in his hands. "I might as well be in Azkaban again for all the protection I'm giving him."

"Don't say that," Remus reprimanded sharply. "Even if you can't help him now, he'll need your support later. The –"

Remus was interrupted as the room was lit up by the arrival of Patronus in the form of a shining panther. He had not seen that form in many years. It was always a harbinger that things were going to shite for the Order during the First War, and its presence now sent a chill up Remus's spine. Before either man could say another word, a familiar female voice came from the beast.

"To whomever is currently present at Order headquarters: Harry is safe and is with me at the location discussed earlier this week. Tell Dumbledore to get his arse moving and come get us." The Patronus faded at the completion of its message.

"Moony, who did that sound like to you?" Sirius asked. Surely, he must have mistaken the voice delivering that specially worded message. He didn't know that the straight-laced witch had it in her to show such disrespect to the Headmaster.

Remus, knowing where Sirius's thought had gone, was less concerned about the words used and more concerned about the Patronus itself. When did Hermione learn to cast a Patronus, and why did it take that specific form? As he contemplated, he absently answered, "Hermione Granger."

"You think she was the 'forceful bird' that Dung mentioned?" His few encounters with the bushy-haired witch and Harry's own descriptions of her contributions to his education – formal and otherwise – certainly fit the description.

"What was she doing with the Weasley twins? Molly hadn't mentioned that she was staying with them." For all that he was asking the wrong questions, this interruption was a welcome distraction from his worrying.

Remus ignored the questions and rose to his feet. "I'm going to the Ministry to see if Dumbledore is still there. If Harry and Hermione are together, we need to get them to safety tonight." Sirius was immediately halted as he, too, shot to his feet. " _Stay here_ , Sirius. Don't give us one more person we have to rescue."

Sirius tensed, his face shutting down, all emotion going behind a blank mask at the insinuation that he would be nothing more than a burden and a liability. On the inside, his stomach churned in a mass of rage and self-recrimination for his inability to assist where he was needed. Giving nothing more than a cool nod, his grey eyes flat, he acquiesced, "As you wish."

Left alone in the dreary prison of his childhood home, the shadows creeping in to remind him of his incompetence in protecting those he loved, Sirius grabbed the unopened bottle of firewhisky shelved on the fireplace mantel and proceeded to get gloriously drunk.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.

"Hey, Hermione," one of the twins called from behind her back. She continued repacking a few rare potions ingredients that were not secure enough for her liking, hoping that her silence would be enough answer that she was listening. "Since when are you interested in entomology?"

Maia looked over her shoulder in surprise, her dark brows raising perceptibly. "How do you know what entomology is, George?"

"He's the reader of the two of us," Fred said with a grin, his shoulder bumping his twin's in a show of playfulness. "You never know what ingredients might be useful in different products."

Harry looked over at the twins with no small amount of shock showing on his face. "You read?"

Both Fred and George took on miens of offense, but it was the latter that spoke up in their defense. "Of course, we read. Didn't get three O.W.L.s each just based on our good looks."

Fred nudged George in the side, making the side comment, "That old bird did seem to fancy you a bit, though, Forge…"

"Because you had just waxed poetic about how her eyes sparkled like freshly minted Galleons, Gred," George accused with a huff. "Obviously needs her 'Galleons' polished if she couldn't tell that she had begun testing the better-looking twin. You need to work on your pick-up lines…"

Maia scoffed in amusement, drawing their attention back to her. "You were saying?"

"Erm, yeah," George said, slightly flushing, before holding up a sealed, glass jar. He shook it a little for emphasis, disrupting the beetle perched on its solitary twig. Said beetle began to buzz angrily, trying without success to break free of its glass prison. "Since when do you keep bugs as pets? Crookshanks not enough?"

Harry looked about the room, just then noticing the absence of the bandy-legged feline. "Where is Crookshanks, anyway?"

"We agreed that he would stay at Hogwarts until next term," Maia said distractedly, rising from the floor in front of her open trunk and advancing on George. Her eyes narrowed in on the angry insect. Crossing her arms over her chest, she muttered, "Bugger. What am I going to do with you?"

Harry stepped up next to Maia and looked at the ornate beetle as it seemed to buzz its response. His eyebrows rose to disappear in his hairline when he identified its occupant. "You still have her in a jar?"

"You think I shouldn't?" Maia asked, one brow arched questioningly. "After everything she did this past year? I don't think a couple weeks nearly long enough to have properly learned her lesson."

Fred looked closely at the two as they conversed before interrupting seriously. "Wait a tic. _She?_ Tell me that Hermione's just good at identifying bug privates here…"

Harry looked at him incredulously, to which Fred just shrugged. It was Hermione; who knew what she might have picked up in one of her books? Maia, however, looked at him with blue eyes dark with scorn. "I have much better things to do with my time than identify the sex of beetles, Fred Weasley."

George took a deep breath, careful not to jostle the jar again. He leaned in closely, peering inside as though the translucent walls could act as a magnifying glass. "Who've we got here, then?"

"A nuisance," Maia replied in annoyance. Looking to the twins, she asked, "Do you know how to Disillusion yourselves?"

George nodded while Fred verbally replied with a shrug, "Sure. Learned it last year."

"I need you to do it, then. Harry," she directed, as she took the jar from George's hand, "Back under the cloak. I don't want her knowing you're here."

"Erm, Hermione," Harry said, grabbing his silvery cloak even as his face betrayed his confusion, "Isn't it a little late for that?"

Maia smiled mischievously, causing the twins to catch their breath as an unexpected jolt of pleasure hit them in the gut. She needed to warn a bloke before pulling a face like that. "We can see in, but she cannot see – or hear – anything outside of her jar."

Harry's green eyes grew large in fascinated horror. "You mean to say she hasn't been able to see or hear anything in _two weeks_?"

Her face became a blank mask as the smile fell from her face, but some small measure of sadness crept into the blue of her eyes that he could think that of her. "I'm not that cruel, Harry. She has a replenishing stock of food with a lovely view of Hogwarts' grounds. The illusion permits for sounds matching the chosen scene."

"What spell did you use for that?" Fred asked, looking excitedly at George. Something like that could come in handy for some of their current products still in development.

Maia ignored the question, choosing instead to look steadily at Harry. The latter looked slightly shamefaced – perhaps he wasn't quite as sure about her as she'd thought? – but it disappeared quickly as he threw the cloak over his head. Seeing the twins winding their wands about their respective bodies as though wrapping themselves in invisible rope, Maia took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. She used her own wand to throw a hasty "Hermione" glamour over herself, not wanting to give the reporter any more ammunition than she already had.

Ensuring that everyone's covers were in place, she gently set the jar on the ground and took a few large steps back. A wave of her wand released the lid from the jar and the glossy beetle quickly flew out, shifting almost immediately back into the form of a rather bedraggled Rita Skeeter.

It took the older witch a few moments to adjust to her surroundings, her eyes blinking rapidly behind her bejeweled frames, but when her eyes settled, the did so viciously on Maia. Rita's limp curls twitched lamely as the witch stomped over to Maia, leaning down and stopping mere inches from her face. "I am going to _destroy_ you. I hope you have many fears to feed the dementors, Miss Granger, because I'm going to have you arrested for kidnapping!"

Maia looked at the older witch calmly, and confidently replied, "Illegal. Animagus."

Rita flinched, but gritted her teeth and held her ground. "You've no proof. Who are they going to believe? Some teenage harlot with a vendetta, or a well-published, well-respected journalist seeking the truth in the web of lies?"

"You've abused your station and taken advantage of underage witches and wizards to promote your malicious propaganda, Ms. Skeeter," Maia replied coldly. She took a step forward into the reporter's personal space, causing the older witch to take an equal step back. Anger flooded her features that this slip of a girl had gotten that much out of her. "Although I have no doubt that you're already aware, as _informed_ as you usually are, it's called the Animagus Registry. Located in the Ministry of Magic, its records are open to the public and I distinctly recall the lack of one 'Rita Skeeter – Ugly Arse Beetle' listed. Write another inflammatory or false word about me or Harry, and I will see you brought up on charges of trespassing, defamation of a minor, and as an illegal animagus."

Seeing that Rita still looked mutinous and knowing that time was short before the Order arrived – she was really beginning to wonder at their competence, given that they still hadn't arrived – Maia tersely stated, "I do not bluff, Ms. Skeeter. Do not test me." Her transfigured brown eyes were flat with the promise of immediate retaliation should the reporter push it further.

Rita Skeeter gnashed her teeth together in impotent rage before stiffly nodding her head. In an attempt to regain some semblance of pride, the elder witch straightened her wrinkled jacket with a jerk and marched confidently from the room, not another word spoken between the two. The loud click of the door was signal for the three hidden males to release heavy sighs.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Harry said, muttering. His unruly head of hair was shaking slowly as it was revealed from beneath his cloak.

"She's scary," Fred said with some awe. "Brilliant –"

"But scary," George agreed with a nod, his Disillusionment charm coming off. Their observation seemed inspired more by warmth and appreciation than fear. Harry just snorted, recalling that their younger brother was of the same opinion.

A loud knock broke the silence before anyone could say anything more. "Harry? Hermione? Are you in there?" Arthur Weasley's voice was low enough that the inhabitants could tell he was trying to avoid gaining any unwelcome attention.

"About time," Maia muttered. She strode to the wooden door and paused, one hand resting on the knob while the other fingered her wand. She saw the twins stiffen from the corner of her eye but didn't bother trying to reassure them. "Mr. Weasley, what was the first thing you asked me about Muggles when we initially met?"

Silence lasted for a moment on the other side of the door. Maia could hear hushed voices saturated with surprise, but the words themselves were indistinct. Arthur Weasley coughed, before saying a little uncertainly, "I believe it was regarding fellytones? Ingenious, really, the ways Muggles circumvent their lack of magic."

She thought she heard one of the twins groan a little at what was an old, and well-used, observation by their father. Keeping her position behind the door, Maia opened the portal to admit three wizards into the room. Arthur Weasley was the first to step through, followed closely by Mad-Eye Moody, who looked at her in reluctant approval at her security measures. Remus Lupin was the last to enter, and he paused almost as soon as he crossed the threshold.

While Moody was busy gruffly interrogating Harry on his well-being and Arthur chided his wayward sons for their impromptu escapade, Remus took a deep breath of the scent saturating the room and stiffened. His green eyes flared amber as they focused intently on Maia where she stood impassively behind the door. Maia, immediately recognizing that her glamour had nothing on a werewolf's nose, slowly raised her empty hands into the air until they rested at shoulder height; her eyes, at first meeting Remus's to show she meant no harm, lowered to his feet in submission.

"Lupin, what's going on?" Moody questioned suspiciously, his wooden leg clunking heavily against the empty floorboards as he approached the pair.

"That isn't Hermione," Remus replied, his voice gravelly as he fought back the rising aggression of his wolf. He _knew_ this witch, her curious scent unique and vaguely familiar. The witch standing so submissively before him smelled of mint leaf, cedar wood, and snow with just the barest hints of lavender; it reminded him distinctly of winter. Hermione Granger's aroma always carried the lingering scent of parchment and ink, overlaid by the artificial scent of honeysuckle from her body wash. "Who are you?"

A small, bitter smile graced her full lips, but she kept her eyes down in deference. "I _am_ Hermione Granger, and I am not. You'll have to take me to Order headquarters to get a clearer answer."

Moody growled impressively as he stomped over to the passive witch. He quickly disarmed her, much to Harry's dismay, and used harsh slashes of his wand to strip her glamour. Her hastily transfigured features lightened under the onslaught, revealing her curtain of pale hair and cerulean eyes.

Remus inhaled sharply at seeing the girl – the young woman – before him. "Sirius was right. You look just like Malfoy." _Had_ Lucius been unfaithful to Narcissa?

"A Malfoy?" Moody said distrustfully. He held the silent witch at wand point, his good eye focused on her every movement while his magical eye swirled chaotically in search of a trap. "What are you doing with Harry?"

"Protecting him," came her placid reply. She heard one of the twins snort in astonished amusement, an action which was quietly rebuked by Arthur Weasley. "Someone has to."

"And why would a Malfoy be wanting to protect Harry Potter, eh? Untrustworthy Death Eaters, the lot of you!" Moody spat venomously.

Maia shrugged. She couldn't dispute him on that. Technically, she was a Death Eater, even if a reluctant one. A choked splutter came from the direction of the Weasleys, and she saw Harry pale at the implication from the corner of her eye.

" _Incarcerous!_ " The spell caught her unaware and she toppled to her knees before falling to her side.

She glared harshly through the fine strands of her silvery hair that had fallen in her face, all signs of submission gone as her blue eyes grew bright with her anger. "Was that truly necessary? I'd already shown that I wasn't a threat!"

"You can't trust a Death Eater," Moody retorted, using his wand to levitate her into a seated, upright position. Remus could see that Harry wanted to object to the witch's treatment, but held back, doubt and distrust warring for dominance on his face; Maia observed it as well but said nothing, hoping that time and the truth would be her allies in regaining his complete trust. Moody turned his magical eye to the back of his head to see Harry. "Step to, Potter! We need to relocate you, since you've decided you're smart enough not to listen to your elders."

"Hey, now –"

"What about –"

"Not now, boys," Arthur Weasley interrupted. "You're to head back home. Your mother will be frantic by now. When you get there, start packing. We'll be staying elsewhere for the summer."

He looked briefly at Maia, some consternation showing in his aging face, before turning back to Moody and Remus. "Will you two be alright to move them on your own? I feel that I need to personally escort these two, home." Fred and George shifted guiltily, proving that they had already been considering alternative methods to stay.

"We'll be fine, Arthur," Moody growled. Remus just nodded in agreement.

Fred and George look mutinously to Maia, more than a little irritated that they would have to suffer a delay at getting their questions answered, but nodded in acquiescence. They shambled slowly through the group while following behind their father, hoping that one of the others would speak up in defense of keeping them there. When none was forthcoming, they passed Harry – "We'll see you soon, mate" – and exited the room, heading for the Apparition point behind the Leaky Cauldron.

"Now, then," Moody said, "you got all your stuff, Potter?"

Harry nodded and patted a hand to his pocket in emphasis. Remus looked to the open trunk in question, and asked, "And this…?"

"Is mine," Maia affirmed, before firmly stating, "I'll thank you not to be leaving it behind."

Remus looked at her. For all that she was incapacitated and weaponless, her demeanor and her scent showed no fear of the situation in which she found herself. She appeared every bit as though she were in firm control of her circumstances. Her cool conduct in the face of uncertainty planted a seed of respect for the witch and made him curious to discover what gave her that confidence. He nodded his head in assent and shrank her luggage, which he then proceeded to store in the pocket of his worn robes.

Moody grunted at the show of consideration, giving Remus one disapproving eye while the other stayed locked on his captive.

"Right then," he growled, walking unevenly over to Harry. "This may feel odd, but we need to get you out of here unseen."

Harry chose not to say anything about his invisibility cloak, not feeling as though he could fully trust this stranger – for all that he looked like the Alastor Moody that had taught him the previous year – with the secret in his possession. He was also still uneasy over the treatment that Hermione had received since her outing as a Malfoy. _Was she really a Death Eater?_ She hadn't denied anything else posed to her tonight, so it held true that she would have denied the allegation were it false, right? Everything she had done, so far, had been to his benefit; however, the small possibility of her questionable status caused more than a little conflict over who he should trust.

He shivered slightly at the unpleasant sensation of raw egg flowing down from the top of his head, where Moody had tapped him, to his lower extremities. It was a little disorienting not to see his body when he looked down; at least with the cloak, he could still see himself while remaining invisible to others.

When Remus stiffly made his way over to Maia, his wand out in a similar manner to Moody's just now, Maia stopped him. "You do realize that it will look just a tad suspicious if Hermione Granger failed to check out of her room after having been seen walking into it just an hour earlier."

Remus paused, not knowing that she had walked up as she currently was and not as "Hermione Granger." She had a point. He looked over to Moody in askance, the latter of whom tightened his fist around his wand in agitation.

"We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves," the ex-Auror granted grudgingly. He silently released his _incarcerous_ , watching warily as the witch rose to her feet.

Maia held her hand out, palm up, looking at Moody expectantly. When the only response she received was a blank and distrusting look on his grizzled face, she wiggled her fingers in an "any day now" gesture. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes and said, "I need my wand back."

"No," Moody replied decisively.

Remus watched closely as irritation flashed across her face and the smell of mint spiked in her scent.

"Unless you know Hermione's features well enough to give me a decent glamour," Maia retorted, her voice saturated with doubt, "I'll need my wand back so that I can change my features and properly vacate my room."

The tension in the room rose as the stand-off continued, and Remus could smell the shift in Harry's scent indicating his unease. To offset the battle of wills, he stepped forward again with his wand, stating, "I'll do it."

Maia eyed him narrowly, one dark brow arched daringly. Her aggressive look teased his agitated wolf back to the fore, his eyes flashing amber in response. Seeing that she had no other option if she wished to avoid a fight – one for which she was not currently prepared – she nodded her acceptance and stood patiently with her hands back by her sides.

Her scent grew stronger the closer he got to her, the hints of lavender increasing in his nose. As he began waving his wand over her, he had to fight to keep his face passive. Her steady gaze morphed from clear blue back to chocolate brown, her nose rising a little at the tip, and her silvery hair darkening and pulling up in sleek curls. Freckles dotted her face randomly and her skin took on a golden hue. It was purely for assessing his work that he let his gaze travel her generous curves, he told himself. His academic mind reminded him that there was nothing he could do to hide those; Moony, animal that he was, could think of more than a few things he would like to do with them. Remus quickly slammed down that train of thought and stood back with a nod.

Maia decided to ignore the flash of hunger that shone for a split second in Lupin's amber eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in subconscious discomfort. Looking at the door, she said to the room as a whole, "Ready to go, then?"

Remus made his way to the door and held it open for the rest of the group. Moody exited first, followed by Maia – at the former's direction – and an invisible Harry, before Remus left and shut the portal to the room. The motley group casually made their way downstairs, where Maia noted that the crowd was beginning to thin with the late hour. Seeing that Tom was momentarily free, using his time to wipe down the bar with a lightly soiled rag, Maia stepped out from between her "escorts" and approached him.

"Hello, Tom," Maia said genially, a polite smile on her face. Seeing that she had his attention, she casually leaned forward on the wooden bar. "My ride finally showed up, and I need to check out."

Tom nodded, his glance briefly flicking over to Remus and Moody. He gave them a friendly nod of acknowledgment. Pulling out a ledger from under the bar, he tallied the cost of her week-long stay. "That'll be 140 galleons, nine sickles, and 16 knuts, Miss Granger."

Maia was not uneasy with the amount, though she thought she heard one of the others cough a little uncomfortably behind her. She did hope, however, that she still had enough wizarding currency in her wallet following her change over to Muggle pounds earlier in the week. She reached for the waistband of her trousers, where she had tied her beaded bag for safe keeping, and opened it on the counter.

Remus's eyebrows lifted to see her whole arm disappear as it began to rummage inside the small bag. Whoever this woman was, undetectable extension charms were no small feat. Moody stepped forward, a scowl sitting heavily on his lined face as he leaned over her shoulder. He whispered harshly in her ear, "Did you not get your pocket money for the week, _Malfoy_? Speed it up."

The glare that she sent the ex-Auror was sharp enough to cut him on the spot, had it any real substance. Through gritted teeth, she retorted quietly, "It would be much _faster_ to access my money if I had my _wand_."

Thankfully, her fingers brushed against the leather pouch with its hand embroidered stitching containing what remained of her withdrawn funds. Pulling it out of her bag, she opened it up to begin counting its contents. The delicate clink of metal on metal was heard as she divvied up the galleons, sickles, and knuts into their respective piles. Her face flushed a dusky red in embarrassment. "Bugger."

She looked up sheepishly at Tom, who had been counting along with her, find her short about a night's worth. She chewed her lip a little in indecision over what to do. Anticipating her thoughts, Tom gently suggested, "Perhaps one of your friends could loan you the difference?"

Maia internally scoffed at the thought. Moody would be far too smug, and Lupin could not afford it. She felt a small tug on her arm where she guessed Harry stood, still Disillusioned.

"I've got the money," came Harry's breathy whisper. He felt a little responsible for her shortcoming, as she had only given her money away to his relatives earlier that night.

Maia gave a minute shake of her head in denial, to which she heard him sigh in annoyance. Looking at Tom, she asked, "Do you take direct deposit?"

"Of course," Tom replied. Lifting his wand, he held its tip casually out to her with a smile. "Far too many drunks that forget where they've put their wallet."

Turning to Moody, she smiled with feigned sweetness. Her eyes, however, looked triumphant. "Would you please hand me my wand, Mr. Moody?"

Moody settled both of his eyes on her, his brows drawing down ominously. Bloody witch knew just what she was doing, and he was not about to see her armed before her story could be learned and verified.

"Here." An arm clothed in faded robes reached over her shoulder to deposit the remaining minimum on the counter. Maia looked back over her shoulder in surprise and agitation at having been thwarted, seeing Remus looking down at her with impatience. "We've lingered long enough."

Maia could read that he was fed up with the games she had been playing with Moody this night, and remembering Harry, agreed to let it go – for now. To show her temporary surrender, she politely said, "Thank you."

The bill settled, the visible group of three, followed by an invisible Harry, made their way to the Apparition point behind the pub. Moody saw fit to re-establish his control over the obstinate witch, and replaced his _incarcerous_. Grabbing her roughly on the arm, after first ensuring that Remus had a firm grip on Harry, the two pairs spun away with a pop.

A minute later found the group standing on the pavement in the shadows of a large oak tree directly across from a row of old, brick townhouses. Maia looked around inquisitively, wondering whose home was being used as Order headquarters this time. She couldn't recall ever having come to this neighborhood for meetings in the past. As she looked at the homes in interest, she noticed that there was a number missing within the row of orderly homes, and it sparked a memory that told her just how headquarters had been hidden.

"Where is number 12?" Harry asked curiously, as Remus released him from the Disillusionment charm.

"It's charmed," Maia said conclusively.

Moody looked at her suspiciously while digging around in his pocket. Retrieving a ripped piece of parchment, he handed it to Harry. "Memorize it, boy."

Harry looked down to see words written in flowing script. _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London._

The moment he'd finished reading, his eyes pulling up at the sound of bricks rubbing together, the parchment in his hand burst into flames and quickly reduced to ashes. His eyes widened to see a townhome where there wasn't one previously; he looked over at Hermione to make sure he wasn't mad. She, however, was looking at Moody with an arched brow.

"Can I have mine, then? I'm not exactly going anywhere without it."

Remus looked over at his unofficial partner and sighed. The ex-Auror's prejudices were beginning to give him a headache, and he determined he would have to find Sirius for a drink as soon as they were safely inside. "We were only given one, as a security measure. You were to have read it together."

Maia looked cheekily at Alastor Moody, who had the small grace to look gruffly embarrassed. "You really didn't think that all the way through, did you?"

Moody's face lit up as an idea came to him; he looked far too satisfied for Maia's liking. Her instinctive need to step away from that look was prevented by his invisible bonds.

"There's more than one way to skin a kneazle," he stated smugly.

Maia watched as he lifted his wand at her; she barely had time to brace herself before the red light of a stunner hit her square in the chest. In her unconscious state, she was unaware of Remus Lupin leaping forward to catch her limp form before it could fall to the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I’m simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I know that some were not very happy with one (or more) character(s) in the last chapter. Hang in with me. There is a reason to my madness.

Upon regaining consciousness, the absolute, silent darkness that greeted her immediately told Maia what Moody had tried to do.

Her first thought was to give him the benefit of the doubt, despite his behavior toward her for most of the night; she _did_ have a part to play in antagonizing him, after all. Perhaps he did not know what he was subjecting her to when he brought her – unapprised of her location – onto the Fidelius protected property. The bitter part of her that had been born during her years as an Order spy, however, reminded her exactly who Moody was: the black-and-white ex-Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and recent Death Eater hostage. This latest incident, which his "constant vigilance" failed to prevent, was no doubt going to make the wizard even more paranoid than normal. In reference to the matter at hand, she knew from Lily that all Aurors had to first experience any spell that might be used against a suspect (save the Killing Curse). It's what made the use of the Imperius curse on students plausible the previous year, if not appropriate, and why it wouldn't raise any red flags from persons of authority. Moody knew very well what happened to those brought onto a Fidelius protected property without having first been informed.

Maia felt her mind begin to panic and knew that her body must be responding – widened eyes, accelerated breathing, tensed posture – but she could neither see nor feel any of it. It was one of the things that made the Fidelius Charm so effective as protection. Should someone be brought onto the property, having not been brought in on the secret by its Keeper, that person was immediately deprived of all their physical senses. Without their senses, they were limited to incorporeal thought and emotion, otherwise incapacitated and at the mercy of anyone to whom the secret did not apply.

_"Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"I need to be sure that it will work. You are the one determined to move forward with it…"_

Echoes of her last, in-person conversation with Lily filtered through her frantic mind. It would only make sense that it would go back to the only other time she had experienced the madness-inducing state that was Fidelius-caused sensory deprivation. Her worst thoughts and memories, those that could easily overwhelm her, were racing to the forefront of her mind now that she had no physical distraction to keep them at bay; she latched onto her last memory of Lily, hoping that it would ground her until her self-dubbed "captors" came to _their_ senses. Her test of the Fidelius Charm's protection hadn't lasted forever then, and surely the men holding her were not so heartless that it would last long now.

_"We've been living under the menace of the Dark Lord for years," Maia stated quietly, as she and her red-headed friend hastened through the darkened alleys of Muggle London. "I have heard of no direct threat against you that would result in taking this kind of action. It seems a little extreme. You do realize –"_

_"Dumbledore assures us that it is necessary, even if he was vague on why," Lily interrupted resolutely, her green eyes alert to their surroundings. The scrabbling of clawed feet through the trash littering the pavement was the only thing to be heard in the otherwise empty passage, the sounds of distant traffic easily ignored. She shook her head, giving away her own doubts. "Whether or not he's right, I have Harry to think of now. James has been rather vocal in his repeated defamation of You-Know-Who – not that I blame him – and you know that he doesn't take rejection lightly. It cannot hurt for us to go through with it."_

_Maia scoffed._ It wouldn't _hurt_ to be as trapped as any prisoner in their own house for an indeterminate amount of time?

_Lily looked to her with reproach, easily guessing her train of thought. "_ Really _, Maia. The risk if we didn't and we were wrong…"_

_Maia would never forget the absolute devastation that filled Lily's eyes at the mere_ thought _of something happening to Harry. Her resolve to see that night's mission through was solidified, regardless of her belief in its overkill. She was no more willing to risk Harry – or Lily, though the other woman didn't appear to be thinking of herself – than her friend. Merlin knew that, spy or not, his "consort" or not (thank Merlin, it hadn't progressed_ that _far), she was not privileged with the knowledge of all the Dark Lord's missions._

_The pair paused at the exit of the alley, looking around cautiously to ensure they hadn't been followed or observed. It was risky to meet in the open like this, even if the hour was late. Maia almost couldn't remember the last time they had come together as themselves, with no use of potions or transfiguration to alter their appearances, without fear of discovery. The only reason they did so, now, was due to the complex nature of casting the Fidelius Charm that required the caster – as Keeper – be "pure;" while that may have meant pure of intention – it was a spell for protection, after all – they didn't want to take any chances. Regardless, the probability of Dark wizards wandering the darkened streets of this antiquated street in Muggle London were slim, and Maia had to be certain that the actions her friend was taking would be enough to keep her and her family safe. Books, as informative as they were, were no true replacement for experience._

_Taking a hold of Lily's cool hand, Maia pulled her along until they came to a stop in front of an ornate, old townhome. The white molding surrounding the diamond-paned windows stood out in stark contrast against the dark brick of the building, the light from a nearby post highlighting the rises and falls in the intricate carvings above the front door. The large boxes situated below each of the windows looked depressingly bare, and Maia made a mental note to have one of the elves come spruce it up, should Lily take her up on her offer of using it as a back-up safe house. It was her primary reason for volunteering it as the test subject for Lily's spell._

_Taking a deep breath, she looked to Lily and asked, "What do you think?"_

_"I can't tell much from the outside," Lily said, lightly teasing, "But it seems like it would make a warm home. Good for a family." The subtle, hinting arch above Lily's twinkling eyes made Maia scowl._

_"Unless you wish for me to bear baby tyrants, I suggest you keep those thoughts to yourself," Maia groused bitterly, her hopeful mood at revealing the building to her closest friend dampened. With her father's acceptance of Antonin's proposal, her hopes of a loving home filled with several laughing children had dimmed; the interest the Dark Lord took in her had killed the dream entirely._

_Lily placed a hand on the pale witch's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "The war won't last forever."_

_"Neither will a relationship, once my part in said war is revealed." Maia shrugged off Lily's hand, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. What man could overlook her negligence to save others? To murder the helpless, even if it was meant to be merciful? Before the red-head could say anything in her defense, she snapped, "Drop it, Lily. Let's do what we came here to do. You know the spell?"_

_Lily looked to her friend in silence for a moment, her green eyes heavy with sorrow for what the pale witch had voluntarily taken upon herself – for what she had willingly given up in the process. Seeing that the conversation was closed – for now – she gathered her bearings and nodded. Pulling out her wand, she asked, "Are you sure you wish for me to be the Keeper?"_

_Maia sighed with a roll of her eyes. "Quite. I don't want the Dark Lord or his followers learning of this property. My Occlumency may be good, but even I can't be perfect_ all _the time."_

_"I wish I had a pensieve to record that," Lily muttered distractedly, her focus now turned to the building in front of her. "What of your Muggle neighbors?"_

_"Already Confunded," Maia confirmed. "They won't recall there ever being a townhome located at 7 Araluen Court."_

_"Right," Lily confirmed, her jaw tensed. "Make sure we're not seen, would you?"_

_Maia didn't say anything to confirm the directive; her compliance was demonstrated with the turning of her back to return to the pavement. Once there, she began to cast numerous wards and Muggle-repelling charms, layering them one on top of the other to ensure their strength held over time. Minutes passed in near silence as each witch worked, and before she knew it, half an hour had passed. When Maia turned back to check on Lily's progress, it was to her surprise that neither she nor the townhome could be seen; she had not heard or felt a thing._

_"Lily?" Maia called quietly. She nearly jumped in surprise when the witch suddenly appeared at her side. Fine tendrils of red hair stuck to her forehead, a light sheen of perspiration dewing her face. Feeling cheeky, for she knew that the Muggle-born was typically good at most spells she undertook with little effort, she asked, "Struggle a little, did you? You really need to keep that wand of yours in shape."_

_"Sod off," Lily huffed in good-natured irritation. Her opportunities to practice complex spell work had been limited since she had Harry. Besides, the day that the two witches weren't competing was the day that the sun rose in the west. She looked critically from where the townhome should be located to Maia. "Well? Can you see anything?"_

_Maia grinned and shook her head in the negative. "Good job, Lily. No doubt you'll be safe now."_

_Lily smiled proudly at the charmed home, her hands on her hips in satisfaction of a job well-done. "Oh, I won't be casting it at home. I can't be the Keeper if I can never leave the house to tell anyone who needs to know the secret."_

_Alarm etched Maia's face, her brows narrowing in concern. "But who –" She stopped. Her dubious position meant that the information could not be guaranteed safe with her._

_When Lily opened her mouth to respond, Maia quickly placed her hand up to stop her. Sadness at the reality of what Lily and her family were doing swept through her like a forceful wind, leaving her internal equilibrium off-balance. When would she see her friend again after this night? "Don't tell me. I don't need to know."_

_She looked resolutely in the direction of the hidden home and squared her shoulders. Holding out her hand for Lily to take, she suggested, "Shall we?" She had to be certain that no one could get to the Potter family, that they would be safe on their own charmed property. How better to do that than to test it, herself?_

_Lily took her hand but didn't move to step forward. She looked seriously at her childhood friend, her eyes filled with a sad tenderness that made Maia want to weep. Her next words, emphasized by the squeezing of their hands, sounded as though she were trying to convince and reassure herself just as much as Maia. "This isn't goodbye forever, you know."_

Maia recalled the exact shade of Lily's green eyes as they had been in that moment with perfect clarity; the almost daily reminder that she got seeing them in Harry's face made them impossible to forget. They had been so earnest when she made her declaration. She had been wrong, though, and as Maia's thoughts took a dark turn, her recollection of clear green eyes evolved. Lily's green eyes – the color as bright as any jewel – were a shade of green so like something far less warm…something far more deadly…

_…isn't goodbye forever…_

Mental screams began to echo in her ears, the imaginary cries for mercy from her victims beginning to drown out the comforting memory of her only friend. Her weakening defenses could almost imagine those screams were Lily's, as she begged for the life of her only child. Maia wished to lift her hands to cover her ears, but she remained trapped in the vast darkness created by the Fidelius Charm.

…goodbye forever…

_No, no, no,_ Maia began to chant loudly in her head. If she could feel it, she knew her head would be shaking frantically from one side to the other in a desperate attempt to keep her ghosts at bay. To keep the memories of Lily's death – still raw from their recent discovery – from drowning her.

_…goodbye…_

The sharp pain that she felt where her heart should be raged through her, leaving abject loss, devastation, and a cold isolation in its wake. Sensing her vulnerability, her worst nightmares and greatest regrets surged forward gleefully to assault her defenseless mind.

_LILY!_

* * *

_"LILY!"_

The feminine scream of absolute anguish echoed through the empty rooms and dusty corridors of Grimmauld Place, sending chills through the few present to hear it. When it reached one Sirius Black, it acted as effectively as any Sober Up potion he'd ever consumed and sent him running down the stairs from his top floor bedroom back to the family library. He skidded to a halt just past the open doors, alarm filling his face at the sight of Hermione Granger thrashing on the worn couch set before the fireplace. Her arms were barely restrained by Mad-Eye Moody's heavy grip as a horrified Harry looked on with his hands hovering near her shoulders, unsure of what to do. His godson was so focused on the cries of the hysterical witch that he didn't appear to notice Sirius's arrival.

Sirius looked over to where Remus stood as if frozen, his face ashen and amber eyes bleak with pain. Seething that his friend could so callously stand by while the young witch was so obviously restrained against her will, he paced quickly over to the wolf and gave him a hard shove, which caused an automatic growl of anger in response. "What the fuck, Remus! Stop him!"

"Wait, Bla–" Moody was unable to finish his growled statement as one of Hermione's jerking legs caught him – _hard_ – in the gut, forcing out a lungful of air with a pained grunt. The combination of Sirius's attack and Moody's struggle to breathe was enough to wake Remus from his stupor – one to which he, himself, didn't fully understand – and the two Marauders made their way over to where the witch continued to fight, tears streaming down her agonized face from panicked eyes.

"Hermione! Hermione, stop!" Sirius cried, grabbing a hold of her arms as they slipped from Moody's grasp. He felt sick to see her sharp fingernails tipped in blood where she had managed to harshly claw at her chest through the thin material of her shirt. He barely managed to dodge her knee as it jolted perilously close to the juncture of his thighs. Through gritted teeth, he cursed, " _Bloody hell_ , witch, stop! You're safe!"

Remus was valiantly trying to ignore the iron smell of her blood as it wove through her icy scent; something about her self-inflicted wounds was driving Moony's agitation up exponentially and seeing the two grown wizards struggle to hold her down wasn't helping. He watched as she continued to fight, trying to analyze where and how he could help, given the limited room available. When his still amber eyes locked onto hers, he saw that her pupils had blown wide enough to nearly eliminate the brown surrounding them. They appeared to be frantically searching for something…anything. Realization seemed to dawn on his face moments before he commanded, "Alastor! Sirius! Let her go, now!"

In surprise at the order, both wizards did as they were directed just as Remus sent a red stunner at Hermione's chest. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the young witch's body fell limp, one arm and leg falling haphazardly over the edge of the couch to drag the dusty floor.

Sirius looked at him and Moody – who was struggling to regain his breath – with fire raging in his storm colored eyes. "What the _fuck_ just happened?"

Moody growled, his expression ominous. He began again, "You don't understand –"

"You're fucking right, I don't understand!" Sirius interrupted, eyes blazing. He ran his hands harshly through his long hair, gripping it tightly at the roots, before gesturing wildly to the witch lying unconscious on the couch. " _Merlin_ , Moody! Have you actually gone mad?"

"Sirius –"

"No, Remus!" Sirius stormed, waving his arms to cut him off. He pointed a finger at his friend, fuming. "You just stood there, letting him manhandle her! She was your _student_. She's Harry's _friend_. What –"

"That's not Hermione," came a shaken voice from the head of the couch.

The three wizards turned to see Harry, his wide eyes locked painfully on the lifeless witch. His pale face showed his inner conflict as he remembered her test at the Dursleys'. He amended, "Or it is…I think, but…" As his voice trailed off, his chest burned hot with hate, most of it directed at Moody for making him doubt her identity with his Death Eater accusations. A small part of his mind, the part that understood and appreciated Hermione's cool logic, reminded him that he had his own – _well-founded_ , he internally defended – Malfoy prejudice that left him open to the suggestion.

Sirius darted over to Harry, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Bugger, Harry. Are you alright?"

He took a step back, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and began to inspect him closely. His brows furrowed, he asked, "What do you mean, she isn't Hermione?"

"Exactly what I've been trying to tell you, Black," Moody harshly bit out, muttering under his breath about impertinent hot heads. His wand withdrawn, he began slashing it harshly over the witch's form for the second time that night. Sirius's eyes widened perceptibly to see the same platinum haired witch from the night of the Third Task.

Despite her obvious inability to retaliate, Sirius took a protective stance in front of Harry. He looked cautiously over to Remus, who had chosen to sag back with fatigue against the fireplace mantle as his tension slowly eased, and asked, "What's going on, Moony?"

"I went to he Ministry and caught up with Dumbledore as he was talking to Alastor and Arthur," Remus said, his voice rough. He was more than ready for this night to end. "He understood the Patronus message immediately and dispatched the three of us to retrieve Harry. When we arrived at the Leaky, we found Harry, Fred, George, and 'Hermione'."

The quotation marks around the last name were obvious from his dubious tone. He glanced over to the platinum witch curiously, before continuing, "Although she looked _roughly_ like Hermione, her scent was off; though it seems familiar, it's not Hermione's and I can't place it. Moody stripped her of her glamour to reveal the witch before us. We brought Harry and – the witch – back here."

Here he paused. Remus's eyes slammed shut and his nostrils flared, bringing her wintry scent – now liberally mixed with salt and iron – to his nose. When one hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Sirius's dark brows rose in consternation. When his eyes opened again, amber orbs flashed in aggravation over to the ex-Auror. "They'd been bickering all night, but Moody took it a step further. The note Dumbledore wrote for the pair to get them into headquarters was only read by Harry. Moody Stunned the witch so we could bring her in and then woke her up again."

Sirius snapped his head over to the grizzled wizard with a penetrating look, the latter of whom maintained a look of defiance. Harry watched his godfather's reaction, allowing curiosity to push back on the anger that still threatened to spill over. If she _was_ , without a doubt, Hermione…he shook his head, and asked, "Why is that a bad thing? I mean, she couldn't see it, so how else could we bring her in?"

Remus looked briefly at Harry, before returning his gaze to Sirius's disbelieving visage. "I assume from your face that I was right, that whatever was wrong with her was caused by Fidelius?"

Sirius's eyes flashed to him in accusation. "You would 'guess' right. Why didn't you stop him, Remus?"

Remus's eyes flashed amber again at the allegation. Suppressing a growl, he bitterly said, "I am not nearly as familiar with the intricacies of the Fidelius Charm as you are, Sirius. I'm not an Auror to have been trained on it, and if you recall, _someone_ didn't trust me the last time it was employed by our mutual friends. I know only the bare minimum about it, because _I_ trusted that my friends knew what they were doing, and I didn't need to know more."

Sirius looked away guiltily, his eyes falling on the incoherent woman. Seeing Harry shift in his periphery, he decided to enlighten the less informed in the room. He'd have to talk to Moody later about his use of war-time tactics on children. "I don't know how much you've heard about the technical aspects of the Fidelius Charm, Harry," a brief pause indicted that his knowledge was either small or non-existent, "But it's an ancient, defensive spell originally created for the sole purpose of concealment."

Remus stood from his reclined position at the mantle and walked over to the unconscious witch while Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her with pity. He explained, "Generally, those who have not been told the secret by its Keeper remain blissfully unaware of its existence. When placed on something physical – such as a house – all trace of it disappears from the senses of the uninformed.

"It has been used in the past, however, more offensively. Aurors are trained to use it in such a way; just another tool in our arsenal, so to speak. If an uninformed individual should find themselves surrounded by the secret, as is the case with –" He paused, not sure what to call her.

"Er…we've been calling her Hermione, but…" Harry hesitated, his eyes cutting momentarily to the strangely quiet ex-Auror. "She said she is also a Malfoy."

Before Moody could get in a word of gloating triumph, Harry rushed to continue, "She said she'd answer our questions – mine and the twins – but we needed to wait until we got to Order headquarters; the Leaky Cauldron wasn't safe enough, or something."

Remus saw Sirius look calculatingly down at the pale witch. They had already discussed the possibility of Lucius having a "love child;" while they had initially thought it to be unlikely, given the Black family's penchant for anger management issues, the evidence was certainly compelling. He shook his head, determined to think on it more later after he'd had a chance to rest. Choosing, instead, to get them back on topic, he asked, "So, what happens to those you bring, uninformed, onto Fidelius protected property?"

Sirius released a tired sigh. "When you brought her in and revived her, her mind was not prepared. As the house is still completely removed from her senses, she cannot perceive the light provided by the room to see, leaving her in unrelieved darkness. She cannot hear the sounds of anything made in the house, nor can she smell it. She cannot feel anything within the property, and so is deprived of her sense of touch. Anything ingestible that resides here is protected just the same and would not trigger her sense of taste.

"For all intents, she experienced the most extreme form of sensory deprivation upon awakening. Her mind and her emotions are her only company until she is told the secret."

"So, tell her!" Harry proclaimed, his mind finding it difficult to grasp just what Sirius had so calmly described. His remorse was like a punch to the gut – a sentiment shared by Remus – knowing that he had accused her of doing something similar to Rita Skeeter mere hours ago. Had Moody done this on purpose? If Sirius were right that all Aurors were trained to use it this way, it seemed plausible. Regardless of her questionable identity, to awaken her like that was inhumane.

"We can't," Sirius said reluctantly, finally looking up from the unconscious witch. He had his own brief, fear-filled experience with the sensory deprivation described. Although he had experienced it in Auror training with James, it had been rather clinical in its execution; they were under just long enough to get an understanding of what they would be subjecting their prisoners to, should they ever have to utilize that method. The less pleasant experience came when Pete – _the fucking rat_ – had thought it an excellent prank to play on the raven-haired Marauder after becoming the Potter's Secret Keeper. The traitor had not known just how serious the effects were and had spent the next several weeks groveling to Sirius in amends. _If only he'd known just how insincere the coward's apology was…_

Remus picked up where Sirius left off, seeing from his faraway gaze and tense jaw that he was remembering something unpleasant. "Even though we know the secret ourselves, only the Secret Keeper can reveal it to someone new. We'll have to wait for Dumbledore to come."

Sirius clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, bringing his attention back to him. He spared a frowning glance at the witch, before turning back to Harry. "Come on, pup. Let's go get you settled. We're about to be besieged by gingers, so you better take advantage of all the vacant rooms now."

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked. He heard Moody growl out some indecipherable answer.

"I'll take care of her, Harry," Remus reassured, less than pleased with the continuing antagonistic behavior from the elder wizard and feeling guilty for his own, unwitting part in her current state.

As Harry was guided from the room by Sirius, the latter of whom was doing his best not to think of what the witch went through to cause her to react as she had, he threw one more look over his shoulder at the female Malfoy. He saw that Remus had knelt to pick her up, choosing to physically carry her over using his wand, while muttering angrily to a scowling Moody. Turning back forward, he followed his godfather up the stairs to select a room.

Remus wasn't listening to any more of Moody's prejudiced tripe that night, ignoring the wizard as he warned that the witch wasn't to be trusted. She was fucking _unconscious_ , for Godric's sake! He followed the same path up the stairs to the guest rooms on the third floor and selected the room across from his. He concluded that if she truly was a threat – impossible though it was in her current state – then it would be better to have her closer.

He shoved open the wooden panel with his shoulder, the loud creak of long-unused hinges grating unpleasantly on his sensitive ears. Seeing that the bed linens were in sore need of washing, Remus shifted the small woman awkwardly into one arm and used his wand to remove the decades-thick layer of dust from the faded comforter before kneeling to lay her down.

Standing back to his full height after carefully placing her on the bed, he recalled with pained clarity her tortured cry for his deceased friend. The pain in her voice, reinforced by the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, spoke of something fresh, raw, and unbearable; the scratches on her torso that had begun to scab over were a testament to her overwhelming emotional pain. Though many years had passed, he knew with acute precision just deeply that pain was felt. What didn't make sense was how – and why – a witch so young would feel so tormented by a death that occurred to a stranger when she would have been nothing more than a toddler, herself.

Remus leaned tiredly against a pillar on the four-poster bed and quietly murmured, "Just who are you, little witch?"

Despite being only a few days from the full moon, he was so deep in his thoughts that his heightened senses failed to pick up on the other Marauder-in-residence that had paused just outside the open door on his way back to his own room. Having heard Remus's question, Sirius couldn't help but wonder the same thing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> First, I apologize for not posting last Friday. School work got the better of me. With a book review to write, updates on a business consulting project, and a second group project starting up (and those are just the "outside the normal" things), there was no way for me to get this chapter finished in time to post as I usually would. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's only nine more weeks until graduation…
> 
> Second, this thing is turning into even more of an epic monster than I'd thought it would be when I started. The characters occasionally push in a direction that I had not planned for in my initial outline – which was originally about 44 chapters, but now, who knows? – resulting in chapters I hadn't expected (like this one). I'm not completely happy with it, as it's mainly a filler chapter, but it serves a purpose. Hopefully you all still like the general direction it's going and stick with me.
> 
> For those who have reviewed, given kudos to, and/or are (still) following this piece, thank you.

Despite the late hour and the persistent ache in each of his joints as his body prepared for his upcoming transformation, Remus was determined to see his error in bringing the young Malfoy onto the property corrected before he sought his bed. They had nowhere else they could take her that was as secure as Grimmauld, especially given the lack of people in on the secret of her identity. He knew, based on Dumbledore's narrow eyed response to the Patronus message earlier in the night and Sirius's own account from the night of the Third Task, that the headmaster was in on it. Given that he was also the Secret Keeper, it only made sense that Remus would try to contact him now so that he could apprise the witch of her location and end her unintentional sensory deprivation.

His Floo call to the headmaster's office went unanswered, leading him to believe that Dumbledore had either retired for the night or was still out of the castle. Sitting up from where he crouched on the floor in the kitchen, he placed his hands on his lower back and gradually leaned back to stretch out his sore muscles. Most faculty did not reside at the castle over the summer and, in his fatigued state, he could not think of anyone else he felt comfortable calling at this late hour to inquire as to the whereabouts of the absent wizard. Given this temporary roadblock, Remus determined that he would just have to try again in the morning.

He slowly climbed to his feet and made his way out of the kitchen, taking special care to pay attention to the shuffling placement of his leaden feet; it felt like it would be just his luck, tonight, if he tripped over air and awakened the portrait of Sirius's banshee of a mother. What a nightmare it had been to discover _that_ when they first relocated.

Remus spotted the Black's old house-elf, Kreacher, lurking in the shadows near the curtained portrait, his demented mumbling too low for even his sensitive hearing to comprehend. Remus determined that the elf was likely waiting for the "half-breed" to leave so that he could converse with "Mistress." Too tired to try to settle an upset elf should he dare to greet him, Remus trained his dry eyes forward and made his way to the stairs.

Upon his return to the third floor, Remus stopped briefly to check on their "guest." Ensuring that nothing had changed about her unconscious state, he turned to enter the room that Sirius had promptly given him for whenever he chose to stay at headquarters; he assumed that the raven-haired Marauder was hoping that it would be fairly often. The once-grand old furnishings, generally covered in dust and decay from years of abandonment that Kreacher had done nothing to delay, were a far cry from the worn, but clean, furniture in his cabin home. He thought, briefly, of returning there for the night, but was too tired to risk Apparition and was not willing to return down the stairs to take the Floo.

Though Remus had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the thin pillow, it felt like he had no more than shut his eyes when he was startled awake by shrill screams. Hastily grabbing his wand from where it rested on his bedside table, Remus leapt to his feet and ran from his room. The door to the witch's room was already open. Dashing inside, he found Harry staring down at the thrashing witch with a pale face and wide eyes. He wasted no time in raising his wand and sending another stunner at her freshly bleeding chest, causing her to quiet once again.

Neither Harry nor Remus said anything for several moments, each taking in the fresh scratches that could be seen through the damaged material of the witch's shirt and the shining trail of tears that wet her face. Footsteps pounded behind them and it wasn't a minute more before Sirius thundered into the room, shirtless and wand drawn. Remus had the passing thought that he was glad the other Marauder took the time to even don trousers, unbuttoned as they were. No need to scar Harry more than he already was.

When Sirius saw that neither of the other two conscious occupants were concerned, he lowered his wand and looked at the witch on the bed. His face showed concern as he turned to Remus and asked, "Again?"

Remus nodded with a tired sigh. Casting a quick tempus charm, he noted that it had only been about two hours since they last stunned her. "It looks like one of us will have to keep her unconscious until Albus can get here; she's not staying under very long. She's liable to do some real damage, otherwise." His eyes looked pointedly at the thin lines of red staining her shirt.

"How do we fix it?" Harry asked, his voice strained. He had yet to look up from where Hermione lay, his guilt beginning to eat at him. The thought had been growing in his mind since Sirius had left him in one of the guest rooms that she wouldn't be in this position if she hadn't come to get him.

"Harry, Dumbledore –"

"Not that," Harry said, shaking his head resolutely. "I haven't…I don't know the healing spells to fix…"

"Ah," Remus acknowledged. He could only blame his fatigue for not thinking of that himself; it was a poor excuse, but it was all he had. He had picked up a few, minor healing spells over the years, having learned most when he was young so that he could take care of any minor wounds not inflicted by the wolf during the nights of his transformation; the others were learned by way of necessity as a friend of reckless Marauders. Stepping forward, he waved his wand over her lightly bleeding scratches and watched as the skin began to knit back together. Seeing them disappear from her skin seemed to help in setting all three males at ease.

Remus let his head drop forward, knowing that the rest of the night was a bust for sleep if they had to keep her sedated, so to speak, at least until Dumbledore could get here. Picking his head back up, he looked over to Harry and gently said, "Get back to bed, Harry. I'll watch her."

"But –"

"He's right, Harry," Sirius agreed, taking in his godson's pale face and sagging posture. "Go on."

Harry looked between the two for a moment before slowly making his way out of the room. Neither Marauder mistook the look in the boy's eyes nor the heavy set of his shoulders. Sirius let out a low growl of frustration as soon as they heard the door to Harry's room click shut, both hands clasping at the back of his head. "He shouldn't feel responsible for this."

"No," Remus agreed, moving over and settling in the room's only chair. He almost wanted to laugh when his tired mind noted the peculiarity that was the red fabric in such a Slytherin-proud house. "That's on me. I carried her in."

"And Moody was very much aware of what would happen when she woke up," Sirius argued back with disgust. "Let's make sure the blame is placed where it was earned."

Releasing a heavy exhale, Sirius leaned back against the wall adjacent to the bedroom door, his hands now resting at the small of his back. "Don't suppose you got a hold of Albus, then?"

Remus looked up in surprise, which caused Sirius to snort. "Didn't think your guilt would let you rest until you tried to sort it. You haven't changed that much, Moony."

The wolf gave a rueful smile as he let his head fall back to rest against the chair's upper cushion. "You'd be right. He wasn't in. I'll try again in the morning."

Sirius nodded absentmindedly. Looking over to the witch from the corner of his eye, he hesitatingly said, "I can watch her, you know. You need to rest up before –"

"I'm fine," Remus interrupted with a stubborn set to his jaw. Seeing the flash of irritated resignation on Sirius's face, and knowing that he was only trying to look out for him, he added, "I'll trade off with you in the morning when I try to catch Albus."

Sirius sighed harshly, the only sign that he didn't agree, but nodded. "Right. I'll see you in the morning, then."

After Sirius had walked back out of the room, Remus waved his wand to close the door and set a silencing charm as a preventative, just in case the witch was able to release another scream before he was could stun her again. He frowned, thinking that it wasn't healthy to keep using the spell against her, but he couldn't think of what else to do. They hardly had the Healer knowledge or potion resources to do otherwise. He hoped that Albus would be free to come by in the morning, making his concern for naught.

Taking a deep breath, her wintry scent filling and lingering in his nose, Remus shut his eyes, determined to get what rest he could between stuns.

* * *

Sirius looked up sharply from his rather pathetic excuse for a lunch at the sound of Remus crashing through the front door. Rising to his feet, he hastily climbed the stairs to exit the kitchen, waving his wand distractedly to throw the curtains back over the screaming portrait of his mother, and joined the wolf in the front parlor just in time to see his friend plant his fist in the wall.

"Can't say as I disagree that the place needs a good remodel," Sirius said drily, "but I'm not sure that's the most effective method of going about it."

"It's been nearly _three days_ , Sirius! Where the hell is he?!"

Sirius knew that a lot of the anger Remus was releasing had to do with the moon the next night and an overall lack of consistent sleep. He definitely shared in his friend's frustration over their situation, however; being helpless was never a feeling that Sirius enjoyed. If anything, it was a feeling even more entrapping than his current circumstance as the "Headquarters Guardian."

The two Marauders had been trading six-hour shifts to keep the witch unconscious as much as they could; admittedly, the lack of sleep was catching up to them and there was an occasional delay in putting her back under. These lapses usually resulted in the need to utilize healing charms to heal over the damage she inflicted through self-harm. They – meaning mainly Sirius, as Remus had more pressing matters on his mind – were hesitant to allow Harry in on the rotation. The first time it happened, Sirius came back to find self-loathing overflowing in the form of angry tears on his godson's face. Harry refused to tell him what it was that had him so upset, at least beyond the obvious, but he was sure that continued exposure to the witch wouldn't help.

Since then, and despite Harry's arguments that he could help (at least before he stormed back to his room when he was denied _again_ ), Remus and Sirius had kept the shifts between themselves. They were reluctant to set up silencing charms as they wanted to know when she pulled herself out of insentience, but they knew that they would have to do so soon, if Dumbledore didn't show up first. The Weasleys were due to arrive for the summer the day following the full moon, and only three of the brood were nominally aware of her current whereabouts.

Remus had tried the morning following her arrival to Floo call the headmaster, and when that failed, did so again that afternoon and evening. He knew that it could very well be circumstantial; Albus Dumbledore was a busy man on a normal day, let alone when preparing for war. He didn't want to send a Patronus, as he was unsure if Dumbledore would be in a secure location to receive it, and owls could be intercepted. After two days of unsuccessful calls, the Marauders had agreed that Remus should visit Hogwarts to confront the headmaster directly. It appeared that the trip was less productive than they'd hoped.

Sauntering into the grim parlor, Sirius flopped back on a garish chaise that his mother had always insisted "set the tone of the room." Hideous thing. He'd burn it gleefully – all of it, really – if he had any anything else with which to replace it. "He's not at Hogwarts, obviously. Suppose it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. You've said yourself that few faculty inhabit the castle through summer hols."

Remus rolled his eyes, shaking his bruised hand and flexing the fingers to ensure he hadn't caused any damage with his impromptu "remodeling." "The headmaster does. Someone has to be there to anchor the wards."

Sirius frowned. Placing the back of one arm against the armrest, he leaned into it and began to idly stroke his lower lip with a calloused finger. His eyes were distant in thought when he observed, "The wards can't be _that_ dependent on his presence. He has taken extended trips in the past, and the wards are still standing."

Remus looked thoughtfully at his friend, and replied, "That is true; however, Minerva was always there to hold the wards during those absences. It's one of her duties as Deputy Headmistress."

Sirius's eyes lit up with hope. "Have you spoken with her? If Albus isn't there, she has to be."

Remus's haggard face betrayed his surprise at the simple solution. Why hadn't _he_ thought of going to Minerva? If anyone knew where the headmaster was, she would.

Despite his inner embarrassment that he hadn't thought of seeking out the elder witch when he had _just_ been at the castle – though, he _had_ been rather singularly focused on finding the headmaster, himself – he was willing to own up to his momentary stupidity if it meant answers. He _needed_ answers; they couldn't keep going like this. The lack of sleep, besides _clearly_ affecting his cognitive processes, was going to make his transition the following night a nightmare. He also wasn't sure how much more he could take of the burning scent of the witch's fear or the sharp tang of her remorse filling his over sensitized nose whenever she woke. Something had to give.

He was aware of Sirius following him back to the kitchen and heard the Animagus settle into one of the dining chairs while he knelt on his aching knees. Throwing the Floo powder into the grate, he called out, "Minerva McGonagall's office!" and thrust his head into the green flames.

The sense of relief at seeing the stern visage of the witch behind her desk was nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Her eyes widened minutely in surprise at seeing his head in her grate, but she didn't let it affect her otherwise. "Remus. Is there something I can do for you?"

Remus was careful to contain his weary exhale, not wishing to disturb the ashes flickering around his head. "Do you know where I can find Albus? I've been trying to contact him since Saturday night."

"And you've only come seeking me now?" She asked wryly. McGonagall's eyes narrowed shrewdly as she stated, "I cannot imagine what is so urgent that it would require multiple attempts to garner his attention, as it was my understanding that Saturday's situation had been settled," Remus wondered if she could tell that his body on the other end of the Floo connection had shifted guiltily, "But Albus is currently abroad on Order business. He won't be back until the meeting on Saturday."

Remus thought he was going to be sick and he was sure his dismay showed. They had _four more days_ to…but, surely…? Coughing lightly to clear his throat, he plaintively asked, "There's no way to reach him? It really is rather important that I speak with him."

McGonagall's calculating gaze hadn't dimmed a mite in the last couple decades, and he found himself fighting not to squirm like a first year as she assessed the desperation he felt painted on his face. She undoubtedly wanted to ask what trouble he and Sirius had gotten into _this_ time, but simply said, "I'm afraid not. Is there something that I can help you with, Remus?"

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, hoping that the depth of his despair wouldn't be too evident to the observant witch. How the Marauders got away with as much as they did while in school, he still wasn't quite sure. "No, but thank you, Minerva. As soon as Albus returns, let him know that I need to see him at headquarters?"

"Aye, I'll do that," the elder witch said with a nod, though her eyes remained slightly suspicious. She paused for a moment to see if he would say anything else. When he didn't, she said, "Have a good day, Remus."

Remus merely muttered his farewells as he pulled his head back from the flames. The dizzying sensation that came from that mode of communication was only exacerbated by his fatigue, and he couldn't help but collapse on his arse once he was wholly back in the dingy kitchen.

"Well?" Sirius asked, struggling to stay even moderately hopeful in the face of his friend's defeated demeanor.

"Saturday," Remus ground out hoarsely, his head falling sideways against the brick frame of the fireplace with a heavy thud. "He won't be back until the meeting Saturday."

Sirius's face dimmed, his own eyes falling shut at the implication. "Fuck."

* * *

Harry wasn't nearly as oblivious – or useless – as Sirius and Remus seemed to think. No doubt they assumed he was whiling away the hours fuming in his assigned room (which he grudgingly admitted was still a fair amount of time given his impotent frustration at their situation), but he was far more perceptive than they were giving him credit for. Even Hermione – he cringed as he looked through the shadows to where she currently lay quietly – had noted that when he wanted to, he could be extremely determined in his focus.

He watched as her chest rose and fell softly, the light of the full moon filtering spottily through dirty windows the only source of illumination in the room. They'd had no choice but to ask him to watch Hermione tonight, he thought with acute bitterness. He knew that they didn't think him stable enough to handle her episodes, and in one sense, they were right. It tore right through him, increasing his sense of responsibility for her predicament, with each scream that ripped harshly from her throat. Harry could only imagine the state she would be in once she was truly cognizant again, and his anger at Professor Dumbledore's absence grew. What was so important abroad that he couldn't come back to help Hermione, first?

Regardless, he was still capable of functioning around his guilt, even if the elder two disagreed. Harry had taken several opportunities to come in and sit with the unconscious witch while the other two debated on solutions or tried to catch up on sleep in another room, but this was his first opportunity to sit with her uninterrupted since they'd arrived on Saturday night. Remus had argued with Sirius that his company during the moon was unnecessary, but the Animagus had been firm in his resolution to stay with the wolf that night. Between his years in Azkaban and the last one on the run, it had been too long since they'd been able to reestablish their pack comradery, and Harry could tell that Sirius needed it just as much as Remus did. As far as Harry was concerned, it was only to his benefit.

Given the ample time to think and analyze, which he acknowledged was not always his strong suit if his performance at chess was any indication, Harry realized that things would be moving rather quickly once Professor Dumbledore arrived to wake Hermione up. The cool reception she'd received from Moody – and that was putting it lightly – was a clear indication to him that she would be up against many similar reactions once more people became aware of her questionable identity. She'd come to aid him as soon as she was aware he needed help, and he could do no less for her now, potential Death Eater or no. Besides, he hadn't defended her, initially, and he felt an intense need to make it up to her.

Harry knew that he would need help to infiltrate the Order meeting that coming Saturday. Remus and Sirius were not nearly as stealthy in discussing covert information as they believed, he thought with a snort. He knew that Fred and George were just as eager to get their questions about the platinum witch answered as he was, so he had a good feeling that he could rely on them for assistance.

Luckily for him, the Weasleys were arriving the next day and the trio would have plenty of time to come up with a plan to get him in undetected.

* * *

It had been much harder to sneak away since the Weasleys had arrived a couple days prior, and the lack of a frequent sentry had left the Malfoy witch in much worse shape than she'd been throughout the first half of the week. Remus quickly jumped to the side, careful not to spill the open container of broth he carried as he flattened his back against the wall, barely avoiding the hasty stampede of gingers as they rushed down the stairs to grab dinner before the Order meeting. He shook his head as he heard the foul-mouthed squalling of Walburga Black's portrait echo in response to their pounding footsteps; he hoped they learned fast to quiet down on descent.

The Weasley matron had looked more than a little suspicious when setting the table after he turned down her offer for a meal, and it made him more than glad that this was his last time sneaking broth upstairs to the insensible witch. Remus had known, at least theoretically, that Molly Weasley _née_ Prewett was a strong woman who ran a rather tight ship; with seven children and Arthur for her husband, could she be anything else? Fabian and Gideon certainly made plenty of jokes about their sister when Order members would gather to talk about their families, but he hadn't taken everything they said to heart. Perhaps he should have. It had not occurred to him that she expected the Marauders and Harry to fall in line with her brood upon their arrival, following her every order on command. It rather rankled his already frayed nerves, though he was better at keeping his tongue than Sirius.

He knew that his raven-haired friend was grateful to see more people filling the rooms of the empty house, especially given that they were the sort of magical family his parents would have never approved of, but if the few rows he had witnessed between Molly Weasley and Sirius Black were any indication, this living situation would not last beyond the first of September. Hell, he didn't know if they'd make it _that_ long without drawing blood.

Making his way to the locked and warded room where they'd been keeping the Malfoy witch the last week, he cast a quick glance around to ensure he was alone before drawing his wand and entering the room. Sirius looked up from where he was sprawled sideways across the incongruous red chair. His voice was raspy with sleep when he asked, "Is he here, yet?"

Remus shook his head. "Not yet. Molly's serving dinner before the meeting, since we aren't sure how long this initial one will last. You should go grab a bite."

Sirius winced at the thought of braving the Weasley clan without back-up in his current state. Merlin, if having a kid was anything like this past week had been in caring for this witch, he was fairly certain the Black line would be dying out with him. Taking care of a newborn Harry hadn't been nearly as taxing as this, though Lily had often been quick to tell him otherwise. "Think I'll go grab a shower to freshen up, check on Buckbeak." Nodding his head to the thermos, he asked, "The Ginger General didn't give you any flak over skipping dinner?"

Remus rolled his bloodshot eyes at the nickname, but snorted his amusement nonetheless. "She expressed her 'concern' that I was too thin and needed more than broth to put some meat back on my bones." He shrugged, before continuing, "I just brushed it off as the lingering effects of the moon. I'll grab a bite after the meeting."

Sirius sighed, looking over at the unconscious witch. "Here's hoping Malfoy, here, will keep it down this time. We've still got another hour before she's due to wake again, so hopefully her stomach is settled enough." They had struggled to feed her anything more substantial than chicken broth and tea throughout the week, and it had taken several tries before they figured out that they couldn't feed her too close to her episodes without their attempts coming back up. Even so, the witch had lost a noticeable amount of weight from the lack of solid food.

"Go on," Remus said, walking over to the bedside and taking a seat near the witch's head. "I'll see you at the meeting."

Remus heard the door close and felt the rush as Sirius reset the wards. Leaning over, he gently maneuvered his left arm behind the witch's shoulders to get her into a semi-upright position before he began to slowly feed the broth through her parted lips. He grimaced a little at seeing their chapped state, knowing that it meant she was getting dehydrated. He was relieved that tonight – and Dumbledore's arrival – would signal the end of this poor attempt at witch-sitting.

He was rubbing her throat, encouraging the last of the broth to be swallowed, when he heard a firm knock at the door. Glancing at his worn watch, he noted that the Order meeting would be starting in a little over an hour. With a slow exhale, Remus gradually lowered the witch back into her reclined position, hoping that the movement wouldn't upset her stomach. He rose to his feet with his wand drawn and took down the silencing spells. "Who is it?"

"Albus Dumbledore," came the reply. A mixture of relief and anger battled in his stomach as Remus opened the door to admit the headmaster.

Dumbledore was looking on at him with assessing, twinkling eyes and nodded his thanks as he stepped over the threshold into the room. Remus waved his arm to the witch needlessly to show the other wizard where their guest lay. "She just finished eating. You may want to wait a few minutes to allow the broth to settle before waking her. We've found that nothing will stay down if she's fed too close to when she wakes. We believe it's rather…jolting…to her body."

"My thanks for taking care of Miss Malfoy this week, Remus," Dumbledore said magnanimously. He looked to the younger wizard, the latter of whom he could tell was struggling to keep his mouth closed around unspoken words. "Minerva told me that you had been searching for me earlier in the week. When she expressed the urgency of your message, I gathered that it might have something to do with Grimmauld's guests. I ran into Alastor on my way in and he was kind enough to inform me of your less-than-ideal arrival last weekend."

Remus bit his tongue hard to keep from verbally berating the old man. "And did Alastor also tell you that the withholding of the location was done intentionally?"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed briefly, before his face settled back into neutral lines. "I'm well aware of Alastor Moody's prejudices and have spoken with him about his actions. He knows that any further acts of deliberate harm enacted against Miss Malfoy on his part will be dealt with accordingly."

He highly doubted that Alastor Moody had taken kindly to any such dressing down, if it actually had taken place in the few minutes it took to cross between the front door of Grimmauld Place and the stairs to the upper floors, and he also doubted that the paranoid wizard would be able to hold his end of that agreement; at least, not for long. Remus wanted to drop his head in fatigue at the battle he could already see forthcoming between Moody and the pale witch. Instead, he internally shook his head and his hands free of the mess. Dumbledore was here now; let him serve as referee. Once was more than enough for him.

Walking to the door, Remus placed his hand on the knob and looked back at the headmaster. He felt slightly uncomfortable leaving the witch here with the other wizard and reasoned that it had to do with his own irritation that the man had waited so _bloody_ long to come address the issue.

Dumbledore must have noticed his hesitation, because he ordered, in the form of a question, "Would you go tell the others to gather in kitchen for the meeting? I believe it will be the best place to accommodate our group." Remus knew that Dumbledore caught the flicker of his eyes over to the Malfoy witch before returning to his. The elderly wizard stated calmly, "We'll be down shortly."

Knowing that he didn't have another option, Remus exited the room to do as he was bid. He only hoped that the Malfoy witch's inclusion into the protections of the Fidelius Charm would not be as overwhelming to her sensory-deprived mind as he expected it would be, and that she would be able-bodied enough to join the meeting. The sating of his curiosity over his unwitting ward was long overdue.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I feel lucky to have gotten as much positive feedback on this story as I have, and I hope you're still with me. I _promise_ that the hinted at first Order meeting will be in the next chapter. Many of you will likely continue to hate Dumbledore in this chapter. Sorry, not sorry. His character is firmly set in my head as being manipulative in this story, and I only hope I'm doing the characterization justice. In the meantime, I'm bringing back someone else…

At night, dreams can feel like they last for hours when, in reality, they may only last a few minutes. That was what it felt like to Maia each, countless time the stunning spell wore off and she was thrown back into waking nightmares. The scenes that played before her eyes were relived with perfect clarity, each moment a pointed reminder of the numerous crimes for which she knew she would have to answer, one day. Every second that passed witnessing scenes from her dark past, each horrible in their own right, lasted an eternity due to the one, glaringly erroneous addition to each one. Every scene recalled – with her as either a passive viewer or an active participant – found her praying to whatever deity would listen that someone would either come to truly wake her up or put her out of her misery.

_The red-haired woman screamed, thrashing her head and jerking her lithe body in vain as Walden Macnair used his substantial weight to hold her down from behind, his hands as hard as iron on the exposed skin of her bruised shoulders. Amycus Carrow, the sick bastard, had taken advantage of the woman's vulnerable position and proceeded to use his wand to cast poorly controlled slicing hexes at her already-torn trousers while his twin sister jeered from the sidelines. Each slice revealed more of her pale skin to the hungry eyes of the Death Eater horde; some pieces of material fell away to rest on the polished wooden floor while others were glued to her skin with a bloody adhesive. The overall look of her lower body became a macabre calico pattern of denim and torn flesh._

_When enough of the material had been removed as an obstruction, Carrow dropped to his knees, moving his black robes aside, and thrust his hips forward to violate her further. The woman's pained scream with Carrow's brutal entry was cut off by one of Macnair's hands as the former harshly took her before their dark audience. Her green eyes, overflowing with pain in the form of tears, flashed to Maia where she sat coolly by the Dark Lord's side in a silent plea for mercy. Maia's impassive mask – and the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to save her at that moment – was the only thing keeping her fear and rage at the disgusting display at bay…_

_No, no, no,_ Maia thought frantically. She desperately tried to turn her mental head, knowing that she couldn't watch as Lily was violated and tortured once again in her tormented mind. How many variations of this scene had she already re-witnessed?

To her detriment, she was unable to do so; she hadn't looked away during the true event, and so she couldn't look away now. She had believed that if their victims had to feel the pain and there was nothing she could do to prevent or stop it, she could at least show them the respect of watching it while mentally acknowledging her failure. _What did their victims care for her respect?_ The question came with a mental, self-berating scoff. Maia had never damned herself more for her misguided notion regarding those tortured and murdered before her eyes. Even if the foolish (and rather useless) form of respect hadn't been her primary reason for keeping her eyes glued to the scene taking place before her, it had served helped her image as a faithful Death Eater. The Dark Lord had respected that she never shied away from viewing their victims' punishments and his followers' rewards.

_Her shields…where were her shields…_

While one part of her mind scrambled to build up the tatters of her Occlumency shields in a last-hope effort to push the false image away, another part of her mind wondered why she had not yet been pulled from this hell. She had lost count of the number of gruesome memories she had relived, all featuring women that looked just like her deceased best friend. It didn't matter whether the visions were of the true victims or Lily; all were women that she had failed to save.

_It wasn't Lily,_ she thought resolutely, forcing herself to remember that the real victim in that memory had been blonde with brown eyes. That woman deserved her remembrance, as well. Her shields were nowhere near full strength, having still not recovered from their years-long erection, but they helped her to make the scene hazier. Trying to distance herself further, she repeated the thought, _Lily wasn't there. Lily was safe at home with James Potter and Harry._

_Lily Potter wasn't there,_ affirmed another voice. The absolute knowledge that it didn't belong caused her memory to pause. _I believe that's enough. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London._

In a painful rush, Maia was released from the graphic memory, and she was immediately inundated with data from her long-starved senses. After so long – _how long?_ – in the dark, the dim light provided by the antique lamp at her side was near blinding and caused her to blink repeatedly to adjust. The musty smell of the room – oddly welcome but also strong enough to tempt her gag reflex – told her that wherever she was hadn't been occupied in a long time. Her mouth was overwhelmed with the taste of chicken bouillon, a flavor that did not mix well with the scent of the room. Her overly sensitive skin felt every shredded fiber of her shirt on her chest and stomach, sensed her torn flesh pulling with each inhale, and discerned the aged fabric at her fingertips. Long strands of hair were uncomfortably pasted with sweat to the skin of her face and neck. The sound of calm breathing, echoing loudly in her starving ears, gave her something to focus on as her mind was bombarded with sensory feedback, and she used the sore muscles of her neck to slowly turn her heavy head to the noise.

There sat Albus Dumbledore in one of his more demure sets of robes; the navy blue material was covered with blinking dots and faint swirling lines that gave the impression of the night sky in motion. His wizened hands were folded in his lap, his elbows resting on the arms of a decorative, red chenille chair. If one wasn't looking closely at his eyes, he would appear to be the very image of tranquility. Her sharp focus, physically painful though it was in the light of the room, caught the minute expression of condemnation that flashed through his blue gaze before they returned to their deceptively twinkling state.

_Judgmental bastard. What did he think it took to spy for the Order? The Dark Lord's rise to power didn't happen over tea and biscuits._

One aged eyebrow rose as he looked at her knowingly over half-moon spectacles. Her eyes narrowed fiercely before she pointedly lowered them to stare at the tip of his long nose.

"Stay out of my head," she rasped. _Not quite the forceful delivery she wanted,_ she mused angrily. She saw his thin lips tilt in a small smile before he gave a short nod of acquiescence.

Silence stretched between them and a headache began to form behind her eyes; whether it was from the influx of sensory data that her mind was still working to process or her growing anger at the old man sitting patiently across from her, she didn't know. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat – _could he not, at least, offer her some water?_ – and roughly asked, "How long?"

"Your impromptu decision to remove Harry from his home caused quite the conundrum," Dumbledore replied abstractly. Seeing her eyes flash back up to his defensively, he held up one hand to forestall her angry justification. His face took on the look of a stern grandfather, reproaching a wayward child. She didn't appreciate it, and she knew that he knew it. "One which I first needed to set aright. I always intended to have Harry relocated here later in the summer. I needed someplace safe set up before that could happen. You are fortunate that we had just finished putting the final spells in place that night and had somewhere for him to go."

Maia gritted her teeth together angrily. She could not have this conversation lying down. Placing her hands firmly beneath her, she shakily began to lift her sore body into a sitting position. Pushing on her arms caused the skin across her chest to stretch sharply, and she let out a hiss as she felt several small tears weep anew from the thin cuts that marred her chest. Glancing down, she recognized the sight of fresh, fine claw marks crossing chaotically over her skin. It didn't surprise her that her body had reacted to what she had been mentally subjected to, trying to give her some outlet for her pain even if she couldn't feel it. She was, however, surprised that there weren't more. She had woken often enough that her skin should be in shreds. Maia mentally shook her head, determined to keep her priorities straight.

She shifted until her back came to rest heavily against a carved, wooden headboard. Letting her head fall back in fatigue, she argued, "If you hadn't kept mum after my first message to you, I may not have felt the need to take such drastic measures. As it stands, I would do it again."

"That wasn't your decision to make," Albus stated firmly, his blue eyes flashing above his half-moon glasses.

Her blue eyes danced with hidden amusement as she tiredly replied, "I have more right to that decision than you think."

Lily was truly one of the brightest witches she'd ever had the pleasure to know, and she internally mourned the loss of her friend and what she could have contributed to the wizarding world. The requirements to change the legal documents making her Harry's godmother would have been a pain, but it could have been done. She had no doubt that Potter would have burned the original document if he'd known what Lily had coerced him into signing. As such, Lily had added a magical identity clause on the document, ensuring that her name would only be revealed upon the death of the Dark Lord. Maia knew that Harry would go to Sirius Black before he came to her if the worst were to happen, and she agreed it to be for the best, given her position. If neither the Potters nor Black were able to care for Harry, and the Dark Lord had not yet met his maker, Maia knew the secret to dismantling the identity clause so that she could assume guardianship. Therefore, it was no surprise to her that Dumbledore was unaware of her legal rights to decide what was best for Harry in this circumstance.

Albus Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, observing the pale witch shrewdly. He was one of the few still living who knew the truth of the witch's relationship with the deceased Lily Potter. He was smart enough to read between the lines and surmised that Lily had indeed made Maia Malfoy the godmother of her son, despite his advice otherwise. He had argued that such an action would put Maia's position at risk, should the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord learn of her connection to the family. Upon reviewing a copy of the document years ago, following the Potters' deaths, he had seen no name in addition to Sirius Black; this suggested, to him, that they had elected to forgo naming a godmother if Lily couldn't have Maia. More fool he, for not reviewing the original.

"I see," Albus murmured gravely. "Then I may only caution you to think carefully through any future decisions you deem to be in Harry's best interest."

Maia fumed. _He_ was one to lecture about playing God. Knowing that it would be a losing battle to discuss it further at this moment, she ignored the growing pain in her head and stated, "You never did answer my question. How long have I been here, like that?"

Dumbledore sat back with a tired sigh. Reaching up, he took his half-moon glasses from his face and began to clean the lenses with the edge of his robes. "As I'd begun, your hasty move was rather untimely. In addition to correcting the misguided suggestion of relocation to Harry's family," Maia opened her mouth to interject, but Dumbledore spoke over her, "there were plans for the Order that had already been set in motion that I needed to oversee personally. Therefore, I could not get here immediately to rectify Alastor's…oversight."

Maia snorted in disbelief, her focus on his final words overriding the knowledge that the Dursleys continued to reside in Little Whinging. She momentarily forgot her silent decision not to look in his deceptively passive eyes and glared. "His _oversight_. The prejudiced bastard did it on purpose."

Albus replaced his glasses and looked at her solemnly. She could _almost_ believe the sincerity with which he spoke his next words; she would, if she didn't know the man better. "I have spoken with Alastor about his actions, and I offer my condolences for the pain you suffered as a consequence." He looked down at his hands, where he held them clasped again in his lap. "I know, more than most, what it is to be haunted by memories of days past. I would not have subjected anyone to that."

"How. Long, Albus," she enunciated, her voice growing stronger with use. At this moment, she had no sympathy for shared regrets.

"A week," he replied simply.

Maia closed her eyes to keep her pain from being exposed to the wizard, though she had no doubt that he read it in her sagged posture. It truly put things in perspective, if recent conversations hadn't already, just how much value he saw in her that he could make her wait a week in that hell. Bitterly, she asked, "So, you finally made time in your busy schedule to help the invalid?"

"Tonight is the first night that the Order – or most of it, at any rate – will officially reconvene," Dumbledore informed her mildly. "I seem to recall that you had a condition to be included, and properly introduced, at that meeting."

Her eyes popped open and widened dramatically, a choked laugh of incredulity escaping her tender throat. He didn't even come to help her, he came for his blasted Order! She didn't know how she was still surprised at the machinations of this man, or how – a _long_ time ago – she had trusted him enough to become his spy. Looking down at her torn, dirty clothing – the same ones that she had been wearing for the last week, if Dumbledore was to be believed – seeing the cuts that marred her skin and feeling the sweat-soaked hair that clung to her face and neck, she could only imagine the sight she would present if she attended the meeting now. "Do I have any time to prepare myself, or would you prefer to have me portray the suspected Death Eater captive, as Moody would have done?"

"The meeting won't start for another half hour," Dumbledore said, finally rising to his feet. "There is a bathroom adjacent to this room that you may access through the hall. I would caution you, however, that the Weasleys have taken up residence and are also staying in rooms on this floor."

Maia slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, gingerly touching her shod feet to the threadbare rug covering the hardwood floor. "Might I have my wand, then?" She was getting mighty tired of being unarmed.

"You may," the elder wizard replied, retrieving it from the sleeve of his robes and presenting it to her. "Despite objections that you weren't to be trusted with it, I am confident that you will exercise restraint until the others' concerns are settled."

_How generous of you,_ she thought with venom, cradling the precious vinewood to her chest. She was going to be careful to ensure that it was not taken from her again. Dumbledore looked at her with an expression that suggested he knew of her "charitable" thought, and merely stated that he would send someone to retrieve her shortly.

Maia wasted no time in freshening her appearance. She didn't wish to run the risk of running into the Weasleys at present, unsure how many of the family (beyond Fred, George, and Arthur) knew of her possible presence in the house. Luckily for her, many of these old homes had bedrooms furnished with vanity tables (with their assorted accoutrements) and full-length mirrors for dressing, which made leaving the room nearly unnecessary.

Maia walked carefully to the tall mirror situated in the back corner of the dim room, her whole body aching from strain and fatigue. Her appearance in the mirror, once she was close enough to see it, was proof of the battle she had been waging against herself for the past week. Her skin, already pale under normal circumstances, was sallow, and dark circles had taken residence under her bloodshot eyes. Her hair, in good need of a deep cleanse, was lank with grease and sweat, hanging in strings around her thinned frame where it didn't stick to her skin. Her hollow cheeks gave evidence to a lack of nutrition that should have been offset – at least some – by potions, had anyone thought to give them to her.

Instead of letting resentment settle with the thought, she let the assumption lie that there were no nutrition potions to be had. In fact, if the house had only just been opened for habitation – a theory well supported by the stale smell and thick layer of dust that pervaded the room – it was very possible that the occupants of the house lacked the necessary supplies to properly tend to their "guest." The taste of chicken broth that lingered on her tongue suggested that they had at least _attempted_ to keep her minimally nourished.

She grimaced at seeing the number of thin scratches, some of which were deeper than others, that damaged her upper torso. She remembered thinking more than once that she no longer wished to feel the pain and heartache that her memories – real and otherwise – wrought, and her body gave testimony to its valiant attempt at clawing out her heart. It didn't take much searching in her memories as a healer-in-training to remember the spells needed to cleanse the wounds and knit the skin back together. Fortunately, considering that they all appeared freshly made, none of them left a scar. If that had been a frequent occurrence, which seemed plausible given the shredded state of her shirt, she would have to thank whoever had removed the other marks from her skin.

There was little she could do with her hair until she could properly bathe, so she tore a long strip from her ruined shirt and used it to pull her lengthy tresses into a messy bun on the top of her head. She filled an ornamental vase with water and used what remained of her shirt to give her body a quick rub down, hoping to remove at least one layer of sweat.

She noticed, when removing her trousers, that Moody and Lupin had not taken her beaded bag from her when they brought her here. Thanking Merlin for small favors, she dug around in the bag until she located an old change of clothes; she hadn't fancied attempting to transfigure the coverlet into something that passed for clothing in her current state. Changing her undergarments and then pulling on the faded pair of denims and a long-sleeved, red cotton shirt made her feel better, despite how loosely they hung on her shrunken frame. She wished that she had access to her more recent purchases and did not have to rely on clothing that had been biding its time in her bag for the last decade; even before this week's unintentional weight loss, her teenage body still had a couple more years to mature before it caught up to her frame (and clothing size) when she disappeared at nearly 22. All her new purchases, however, were stashed in the trunk that (she hoped) was still in Lupin's care. Knowing that no amount of cleaning charms would fix her shed clothing, Maia resolved to throw the lot out at the end of the night.

Maia had just begun the process of resetting her topical glamour when a terse knock came from the other side of her door. She tightened her hand on her wand, her shoulders stiffening with tension. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Who is it?" No response came for several moments, making her call out again.

"Open the blasted door, _Miss Granger,_ " came the irate voice of Severus Snape with another pounding of his fist. Maia's eyebrows rose at his tone, wondering what in Merlin's name had his pants in a twist. She flicked her wand to open the door and went back to addressing the issue of her change from Maia Malfoy to Hermione Granger.

"Enough primping," he commanded scathingly, a sneer distorting his thin face. "I've been tasked as your 'escort' to the meeting; let's go."

Dropping her wand arm and turning around to face the incensed man, she bit out, "What is wrong with you? A simple 'hullo' not a good enough greeting?" It only occurred to her, after the words were out, that this is the first time they had spoken since she had "returned," and his incensed demeanor showed her that he knew it, too.

The dark wizard was nearly shaking with the strain to hold himself back when all he wanted to do was shake the cheeky girl senseless. Weeks – no, _years_ – had passed since they had a conversation of any kind, and _that's_ what she had to say? He was aware that they could not speak before she left Hogwarts at the end of term, but his patience had reached its limits.

"You're criticizing _me_ on social etiquette? Well, here's one for you. Can't be bothered to ask how your old _friend_ , Severus Snape, is doing? No 'thank you' for taking up your Merlin-forsaken role as a spy for Albus _bloody_ Dumbledore for the last 14 years? Where the _hell_ have you been, Maia?!" His obsidian eyes were glittering dangerously in his rage.

Maia hissed, her blue eyes nearly glowing in her anger at being so addressed. She had not gone through what she had – not this past week, not the 14 years as Hermione Granger, and _certainly_ not in her role as spy – to have the hook-nosed bastard who was _once_ one of her best friends berate her now. Slashing her arm through the air, she cast a strong silencing charm to ensure that their "conversation" would not be overheard by unwanted ears. Severus gave her a look of contempt for the action; a silencing charm had already been in place to keep the other occupants from hearing her screams.

"I am _so sorry_ that I haven't been available to answer your questions, _Professor,_ " she replied scathingly. She took slow, measured steps toward the wizard where he seethed in impotent anger. "In which time did I inconvenience you the most? Was it after you became a spy and I had to go into hiding?" She didn't give him a chance to reply before answering for him. "No, you were aware of that. Perhaps it was when 'Albus _bloody_ Dumbledore' chose to de-age me following the death of the McKinnons, using a banned spell with the intention to completely erase me, thereby resulting in the 'birth' of Hermione Jean Granger."

Seeing his face cool from his initial fiery temper to something resembling fuming agitation with a touch of resentment, she continued. At least he _appeared_ to be listening. "It _couldn't_ have been in the last few weeks, however, because I thought we had reached some form of mutual understanding that last morning in the Great Hall, which, if I may remind you, was only _two weeks ago._

"You have been sent back into the snake pit, _Severus_ , and I do not possess the insight or the resources to know when it would be safe to approach you. If I were to come to you at the wrong time, all the years spent as Hermione – all the time _lost_ in which I assume Maia Malfoy was presumed missing or dead – would have been wasted. _Nevermind_ that I have spent the last week deprived of my senses until 'Albus _bloody_ Dumbledore' could be bothered to share the secret location of Order headquarters. _Surely_ , you can understand why I haven't reached out to you to play catch up."

Obsidian eyes steadily met blue in determined defiance. Maia released a tired sigh, shaking her head and returning to the mirror to finish her change. So, he wanted to be stubborn then.

"I've no doubt that many of the answers you seek will come to light tonight," Maia said, forcing herself to keep her voice calm as she waved her wand around her head to eliminate the palpable evidence of her fatigue; beauty charms were certainly useful for covering up a sleepless night (or seven). "What I need, Severus, is someone on my side, because the chances that the other Order members will be once my identity comes to light are slim to none. Can you do that, or has time erased all amiable feeling you ever held for me?"

Severus was silent for several minutes as he watched the witch perform her spells using the tarnished, antique mirror to guide her. For all of her presented confidence, he saw the slight tremble of her arm as it maneuvered around her thin frame. He could still feel the anger bubbling in his gut at the presumption of the woman, turning him in to the Slytherin-distrusting Headmaster as a spy before disappearing without a trace. Years had passed without a substantial conversation between them before that day at Malfoy Manor, where desperation had sent him to seek her help, and more time had come and gone since then in which the Dark Lord had fallen and risen again. There had been far too much left unspoken between them to assume that all his answers could be gotten this night, especially in front of _that_ group currently congregating in the basement kitchen. He had to know, though…

"Why?" The _me_ of his statement went unspoken, but Maia knew immediately what he was asking.

The question was presented neutrally, as though unsure of whether the answer would be one he wanted to hear. Her heart broke a little to think of the boy that had been as close to her as any brother, one who wanted nothing more than acceptance and love but received little more than disparagement and scorn. She had mourned the loss of that boy, but a persistent sliver of hope remained, telling her that he wasn't completely gone.

Finishing with her glamour, she turned back to face the monochromatic man that stood before her, his gaze trained carefully over her shoulder. She slowly approached him, wary of his response should she act too quickly. She gently took his right hand in her own and when he tried to jerk it away, she tightened her hold. "Severus, look at me."

Maia watched as his jaw tightened and nostrils flared. His shoulders were tense, and she could feel how hard he was holding himself to keep from retreating in an effort to create more space between them, physically if not emotionally. When he did finally look at her, his face had morphed into the infamous, derisive sneer that sent students running in fright. She sighed.

"There was a time, before hate and misunderstandings, in which we were good friends," she stated simply. She kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring the way his eyes flinched at the statement and ensuring that she had his undivided attention. "I thought I knew you better than my own brother, until you rejected us for the Dark Lord."

Severus's lips drew up in a snarl, baring his crooked teeth to her defensively. He should have known better. He was able to retract his hand from her grasp and turned to leave when she firmly clasped his left forearm, right over their shared brand. He turned back with every intention to verbally rip into her for her presumption but paused at the sight of the tears welling in her transfigured brown eyes.

Seeing that she had regained his attention, she continued, "I had thought you lost to us. With every raid, every revel…you never participated with the same…enthusiasm…I saw in the others," she paused for a moment, her eyes growing distant and her brows furrowed with remembered concern, "but neither did you reject them."

She looked back up into his guarded visage and earnestly said, "Then you came to me. _Me._ To warn me that not only was I in danger, but that Lily – _a Muggle-born_ – and her family were being targeted by the man to whom you had sworn your allegiance. You helped me to get out without getting caught and agreed to assume my position as a spy for the Order to keep Lily and her family safe."

He was ready to vehemently deny that _anything_ he had done had been for Potter's safety but hesitated when her hand tightened on his arm. A single tear escaped the pool that had gathered on her lower lashes as she continued, "Even after I disappeared and Lily…died," the whispered word practically choked her as she forced it out and she saw a flash of familiar devastation go through Severus's own eyes, "When there was no one there to hold you to your word but a manipulative old man, you _never_ abandoned the post I'd given you.

"You ask why you?" Maia stared at him and he could swear that she was seeing down to whatever remained of his maimed soul. He gulped nervously. "It's because I trust you, Severus Snape." His eyes widened perceptibly.

"Then you're a fool," he replied hoarsely.

When he pulled away from her this time, she let him go and watched as he retreated to the closed door of her assigned room. Maia leaned wearily against the heavy post of the bed frame and waited as he regained his composure. She really could do with some time, herself, as she knew that this meeting was going to take more of her energy than she had in reserve. Moody was already against her, while Lupin had appeared to walk the aggressive side of neutral. The Blacks were known for their tempers, and her personal recollection of Sirius Black – backed by what she had witnessed in the last year since his abetted escape – told her that he would be a hard sell. While Arthur Weasley had always seemed to be more openminded, the debacle with Rita Skeeter's articles showed her that Molly tended to take things at face value, at least until proven otherwise, and Arthur typically followed where his wife led. Dumbledore was no ally. She really needed Severus's support in this.

When she heard the loud click of the knob as it unlatched, she looked up to see Severus's frame taking up the empty space in the open door.

"It's time to go," he stated neutrally over his shoulder. "We're already late." He left the room and entered the hall to wait for her.

Maia sighed and lifted her aching body away from its temporary support. Silently, she followed after him, hoping that the upcoming confrontation would not be as bad as she anticipated.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> Writer's block. Health issues. School. Apologies for not getting this out sooner! It is (mostly) unedited, as I wanted to be sure I got something posted today, so please let me know if you find any glaring errors. I hope you'll find it was worth the wait.

The single, quiet knock, followed seconds later by two more, on his bedroom door was Harry's signal to don his invisibility cloak. He had begged out of dinner that night claiming a headache (to which Ron had replied, "More for me," with a shrug before rushing out) so that he could make sure that he wouldn't miss Hermione's departure from her room. It wasn't long after he began his solitary vigil that he heard an indecipherable conversation between the long-absent headmaster and Alastor Moody from somewhere in the direction of the stairs. Knowing that Professor Dumbledore had _finally_ arrived caused an uncomfortable mix of emotions to churn in Harry's knotted stomach. He could readily place the blame for the anger; what was more important than relieving someone from the torture Hermione had experienced this week? The relief was more reluctantly felt. While he was more than glad that Hermione's release from the effects of the Fidelius Charm were at hand, he was slightly bitter that he had to credit that positive emotion to the headmaster's arrival, as well.

George had casually opened his door as if making to enter the room, the motion of which brought Harry's mind back to the present, and paused to the side when Fred said, "Fancy seeing you here, Granger. When'd you arrive?"

Harry flashed past George, breathily whispering his thanks, before entering the dim hallway behind Hermione as she passed. He saw her offer Fred a small smile, but he could see in the way that she carried herself just how tired she must be. She didn't stop to talk, her gaze darting to the black cloaked back of Harry's least favorite teacher as he rapidly descended the stairs, but did offer the reply, "Not long ago. I'll see you later, yeah?"

When Fred felt the telltale breeze at his ankles, he offered a murmured, "Good luck," to Harry and retreated into the younger wizard's room. He and George Disapparated to their own room with a muffled _crack_ to retrieve the prototype for one of their newest inventions, one that would allow them to listen in on the meeting. For all that they trusted Harry to hold up his end of their bargain – that being to tell them what he learned regarding the mysterious Miss Malfoy, a.k.a. "Hermione" – they didn't want to leave the details to chance.

Harry, for his part, had nearly given himself away when he saw Hermione stumble on the stairs while trying to catch up to Snape. Just as he reached out his arms to pull her back, she caught her balance using the smooth rail at her side. Her whitened knuckles and the slight tremble to her shoulders gave testament to how badly the near fall had shaken her, and he watched as she took more care in placing her feet on the following steps.

The fatigue that filled her body upon awakening was more pronounced now that Maia was making physical demands of it, and she wished more than anything that she had more time to recover (or at least had more assistance in doing so). She had been walking far too quickly down the stairs, given her present limitations, attempting to keep up with Severus's pace. It was no Pepper-Up, but the near fall had given her the electric shot of adrenaline she needed to keep going. Maia saw Severus sneer at her decelerated descent from where he stood at the foot of the stairs and she childishly wrinkled her nose at him in response.

For all that she doubted his interest in attending the first meeting of the reformed Order of the Phoenix, Severus gave a good impression of eager anticipation with his brisk walk to the back of the house. Maia didn't have much time to observe the details of her surroundings during her descent down the stairs or in following Severus through darkened hallways now, but the mounted house-elf heads and the troll foot umbrella stand were a blatant indication that wherever they were, it had once likely housed a family of dark, conservative Purebloods. For all that Malfoy Manor's decor may be subtly influenced by their Slytherin pride and hinted at the less-than-light magic practiced, more often than not, by its occupants, it was her firm opinion that it was much better decorated and maintained than this dilapidated home. She mentally conceded, however, that she couldn't attest to what changes Narcissa may have made in the last 14 years, and so a true comparison couldn't be made at this time.

After going down a short set of stairs past a curiously curtained section of wall, Severus came to a stop. Maia could hear several voices talking beyond the wooden panel on which he'd placed his hand. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the young witch with a look that she couldn't quite decipher before resolutely opening the door and walking through, not bothering to wait for her. The door swinging shut behind him caused a light backdraft of air that caused a brief flicker of movement near the floor. That slight movement, which she decided had to have been the disturbance of various dust bunnies that littered the hardwood, almost distracted her from the silent reception Severus received upon his abrupt entrance. A host of dragons took flight in her stomach at the thought of facing so many of her former (albeit unknowing) comrades-in-arms. If she were honest with herself, and she usually tried to be, she had to admit that a good portion of her anxiety was reserved for Moody and Lupin, without whom she wouldn't have been in the past week's situation. Taking a deep breath, she placed her own hand on the wooden panel and pushed.

Maia paused in the entrance, allowing her still sensitive eyes to adjust to the (seemingly) bright light of the room while skimming her gaze across its occupants. Dumbledore was seated at the head of an elongated wooden table with Moody at his right hand and a wizened Elphias Doge at his left. Scanning the table quickly, she recognized several other older members; Black, Lupin, Dedalus Diggle, that shifty little wizard from Little Whinging, and Emmeline Vance were among them. A couple new faces stood out to her, as well. A large, ebony-skinned man with a golden hoop through one ear sat halfway down the table next to a squirming witch with a pretty face and a shock of bubblegum pink hair. Arthur and Bill Weasley were both seated at the table across from the new members, and Molly bustled in the background, setting the dinner's dishes to clean themselves in the tub-like sink. Maia was surprised that there weren't more present.

Her observation of the occupants had taken no more than a minute, but it was in that time that she noticed the unfriendly looks being surreptitiously cast at her only ally where he had taken residence in the back corner of the room. A shiver shot down her spine in trepidation – _had she really demanded full disclosure to_ this _lot?_

Maia felt her face heat under the scrutiny of so many people as they turned their attention from the Potions master to her. Lifting her head high and training her eyes to the dark form of Severus Snape (therefore missing the looks of anxious curiosity and mild relief shared by Remus Lupin and Sirius Black), Maia left the relative safety of the open door and began making her way to the back of the kitchen. So steadfast was her gaze on the dour Potions professor that she failed to see the hand that reached out to touch her lower arm as she passed, the feel of which caused her to nearly jump out of her over sensitized skin.

"Hey, there," Bill Weasley said, hands raised with a surprised laugh, "didn't mean to startle you. I haven't seen you since you ran off during the Third Task. How are you holding up? Have you seen Harry?"

Had Fred and George not mentioned seeing her a week ago? What about Mr. Weasley? The latter was busy talking with the dark-skinned wizard across the table, so she couldn't really gauge his reaction to her presence. She knew that Molly would have had no shortage of words to say about the twins' disappearance if she knew of Maia's involvement, and her experience with the matronly witch told her that the loud "discussion" that would have followed would have been heard by all in residence. Maybe Bill didn't know? Her eyes flicked to Severus, who merely glared at her from his corner of the room. No help there, then. Maia shifted on her feet, her flagging energy nudging at her to take a seat. "Err…"

Either noticing her discomfort or reading the fatigue in the set of her shoulders, Bill gave her an embarrassed smile. He pulled out the empty chair to his right and waved a hand at it. "Sorry. I seem to have forgotten my manners. Why don't you take a seat?" Seeing her gaze go back to Professor Snape, his smile became teasing and he observed, "Unless you'd rather stand with someone else…?"

Maia promptly sat down in the vacated chair, her heated glare causing the eldest Weasley to chuckle. "This is only because it's the closest vacant chair, you know. There's nothing wrong with wanting to stand with Sev-…Professor Snape." Her shaky legs were more than grateful for the respite, no matter how irked she made herself out to be.

"Never said there was," Bill responded lightly. Quiet conversations had begun picking up again around the table as the Order waited for Dumbledore to begin the meeting. "I am a little surprised to see you here, though. Mum had to force the others upstairs when they fought to stay."

Maia's eyes swung to meet those of the observant headmaster, and she vaguely stated, "Professor Dumbledore and I spoke of my attendance at the end of term." Seeing the inquisitive look that remained on his face, she dug around for what to say. "Given my relationship to…Harry, he agreed that I should be present."

Bill's eyebrows rose in surprise at her statement. Maia's eyes widened, and she hastened to correct, "Not like that! Harry is family. I just want to make sure that he's kept safe." She would not see history repeat itself with _this_ Potter.

"As do we all," Bill replied with a sympathetic smile. At hearing his mother's voice, his and Maia's attention shifted down the table.

"I've just about finished clearing up, but are you sure that I can't get you something to eat, Remus?" Molly Weasley looked down at the sandy haired Marauder from where his sat conversing with Black. Her tone was slightly admonishing, as if he weren't a grown man fully capable of feeding himself. "That broth won't hold long on your stomach."

Maia's gaze sharpened on the exchange. Both men had turned their eyes to her, though Lupin's had shifted back to Molly quickly as his cheeks darkened in mild embarrassment. She heard his negative reply, but her stare was locked with Black's. The lingering flavor of chicken broth still sat on her tongue, a stark reminder that she owed someone for caring for her this past week. Assuming that her observation of Lupin's composure and Black's deliberate stare were correct, she was in debt to the Marauders. Maia had no doubt that once she was finished shooting hexes for how the situation came about in the first place, Lily would have been rolling on the floor with laughter to see her Slytherin friend indebted to Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, of all people.

Seeing Albus rise to his feet in her periphery, she gave a subtle nod to Black in acknowledgment of the debt before turning her attention to the head of the table. The small talk around the table quickly died down as the headmaster folded his hands together in preparation to speak.

"Thank you, all, for your attendance here tonight," Albus Dumbledore began, his lined face set in a mask of gravity. "That you are here shows your recognition of the dark times in which we once again find ourselves.

"For some of you," he said, looking around at the few present from the original Order, briefly including Maia, "this is a harsh reminder that we were not as successful as we had hoped in eliminating the threat that is Voldemort." Everyone, save Dumbledore, flinched at the sound of the dark wizard's name, but none more so than Maia and Severus, who felt the word like a branding iron on their Dark Marks.

Dumbledore didn't allow his gaze to settle on any one member as he continued. "In accepting my invitation, each of you has acknowledged the risk associated with defying Voldemort and his followers. The Ministry is refusing to accept his return." There were a few grumbles around the table at that statement. Looking at the two newcomers seated across from her, he continued, "It will mean a greater risk for some, knowing that the institution you work to support will not show the same respect for you.

"Each of us has a critical role to play, and we _must_ work together if we are to weather this storm. The chances of us all making it through this unscathed are slim enough without discord among ourselves." Maia thought that these words were targeted primarily to the Marauders and Severus, as she observed Dumbledore's eyes flicker between the three.

"Not all of our members are present tonight, as they've already begun their assignments. I have spent much of this past week trying to garner support from past sympathizers and allies, both home and abroad, so attendance may shift in future meetings." Bitterness clouded Maia's thoughts as she considered the cost of his recruiting. "As Alastor has been so kind as to remind me, it is crucial that we re-implement former security measures. Those who are only attending for the first time this evening are encouraged to partner with a former member of the Order as we refamiliarize ourselves with neglected, but necessary, procedures."

Dumbledore lowered himself back into his chair, placing his elbows on the wooden arms and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as if in thought. "I will not bore you with the grade school pastime of individual introductions. I trust, as adults, that you all can manage the social niceties of establishing new and rebuilding former relationships. For the majority of you, it will be to your discretion and judgment how much social interaction is necessary or prudent outside of Order meetings. There are two among us, however," Maia felt her stomach begin to knot, knowing what was coming, "with whom more caution must be shown than most."

Maia noted how many people looked back at Severus with suspicion and unconsciously tightened her hands around the arms of her chair.

"For those of you who return as members of the Order, you will recall that Severus Snape joined us – at great risk to himself – as a spy in the final months before Voldemort first fell. He has agreed to resume his role undercover among the Death Eaters so that we may be apprised of Voldemort's plans. Severus?"

Maia could almost hear the grinding of the Potion professor's teeth at being thrust without sufficient warning into the spotlight. His large nostrils widened as he took a deep breath, before flatly stating, "There is little to report, at this time. The Dark Lord –" He paused at the interrupting scoff from further down the table, and Maia looked back with a glare to see the mocking and distrustful look on Black's face. The latter, upon seeing her silent admonishment, narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. Through gritted teeth, Severus continued, "The Dark Lord has spent most of the last couple of weeks assessing and…renewing the faith…of his less trustworthy resources. I have little doubt that he will, at some point, muster those resources to retrieve those in whom he has a greater confidence of their allegiance to him and the cause."

A sharp chill chased its way down Maia's spine at the thought of escape for the incarcerated faithful. She had looked up archived copies of _The Daily Prophet_ in the week following the end of term while she resided in the Leaky Cauldron, hoping to catch up on information that she had not deemed relevant while living the life of a Muggle-born. Maia knew that more than a few of those imprisoned in Azkaban would be thrilled to see her brought before the Dark Lord, if they had the patience to get her there without killing her themselves first. Bellatrix and Antonin were likely tied for the top of that list. Bellatrix needed no more motivation to kill her than for being former competition for the Dark Lord's favor; Antonin would want to end her for her treachery. Looking around the skeptical faces in the room as they listened to Severus's brief report made her doubt the wisdom in providing her identity – with all her actions in the first war – to those she neither knew nor trusted. _At least_ , she thought, _not without some insurance._

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said with a nod. Turning back to the room at large, he stated, "Those of you that were members of the Order previously will recall that we had an informant long before Severus. It was when they could no longer serve that function that Severus stepped forward to fill the role." A few of the older members nodded their heads slowly, while Black and Lupin looked at each other with furrowed brows. Dumbledore's lips lifted in a small smile. "For their safety, and ours, our informant utilized spell work to change their appearance with each meeting, so it is no surprise if you do not recall any one person standing out. With the return of Voldemort, however, our informant has stepped forward, wishing to take on a more active role in the Order and has asked to be introduced properly. Miss –"

"Wait," Maia interrupted, knowing that she was partially giving herself away. Her eyes were trained to the whorls engrained in the table below her cold fingers. Her face flushed red as she felt the weight of several sets of eyes rest on her.

"Hermione?" Molly Weasley asked, turning her attention to where her family sat for the first time that evening. "Hermione, dear, what are you doing here?"

Ignoring the Weasley matron, Maia lifted her eyes and looked directly into those of the headmaster. Her ire spiked at seeking the fleeting look of triumph that passed through his twinkling, blue eyes; no doubt it would be easier for him if she kept her silence. Her gaze narrowed at the unspoken challenge. "I require a wand oath from every person present that they will not reveal a word of what is spoken in the meeting beyond this point without my express permission before another word is said."

Sound erupted from everyone in the room except Dumbledore and Severus Snape. A couple of the older wizards were verbally affronted, looking to the headmaster to refute her demand. Some were scoffing at the request and still others were confused as to the purpose of her presence at the meeting in the first place (the loudest of whom was Molly Weasley). Her heart raced as a thought popped in her head and, before she could make herself reconsider, she loudly pronounced into the chaos, "I also request the presence of Harry Potter and Fred and George Weasley."

Although Arthur looked at her (for the first time that evening) knowingly and Bill looked on with polite confusion, Molly Weasley went from condescendingly entreating "Hermione" to join the children upstairs to berating her for her disrespect and presumption that she had any authority to make such demands. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, already aware that the named trio knew, at least, of some portion of her alternate identity, watched her closely to see what she would do next. The loud voices were beginning to get to her, her hearing having not yet readjusted to sound, and a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. Just as she had closed her eyes to take a deep breath and resettle herself, they snapped back open at an unexpected voice.

"I, Harry James Potter," Harry yelled into the din, having removed his invisibility cloak in the shadows of the kitchen and stepping forward into the light, "do swear upon my magic not to speak of anything revealed in this meeting by Hermione Jean Granger without her prior permission."

Warmth flooded Maia's chest and caused tears to fill her eyes at the demonstration of support given to her by Harry in that moment. _That_ was Lily's son, through and through. Clearing her throat quietly, she said into the sudden silence, "Thank you, Harry."

Sirius looked between the two, before arching a brow at his godson with a barely concealed smile. "We're going to need to have a talk about your sneaking habits, Harry."

Molly rushed forward toward the young wizard, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Now, Harry, I know that you weren't present at dinner, but we decided the children –"

"Are present –"

"And accounted for!" Came two identical voices as the kitchen door opened with a flourish.

Molly came to an abrupt halt, her eyes snapping to her two twin sons. "Fred! George! I don't know what you think you are doing, barging into a meeting like this, after we discussed –"

"Sorry, Mum –" George interrupted, unrepentantly.

"Felt our ears burning, we did," Fred continued, looking mischievously between Harry and Maia. "Knew that someone must have been talking about us –"

"And the lovely Miss _Granger_ , here, did promise us answers."

"So, naturally, we assumed that was our cue to join in!" Fred concluded with a grin.

The Weasley matron turned her narrowed gaze to Maia in suspicion. Before she could get out another word, her husband intervened. "Now, Molly, you knew that they had been with Harry last week…"

"No one mentioned Hermione or that there were questions in need of answers," she snapped back, her hands tightening uncomfortably on Harry's shoulders. Maia and Sirius both saw him wince, and the latter stood up and stepped towards the duo.

"Alright, Molly," Sirius said, his own hand wrapping gently by resolutely around Harry's upper arm. "Let Harry sit down, and we can all find out what we all want to know."

" _He is too young!_ He doesn't need to be here, making oaths on his magic on the silly whim of a girl! One, I might point out, who does not need to be here!" Molly hissed, refusing to relinquish her hold.

Maia scowled at the ginger witch and rose, unsteadily to her tired feet. Leaning her weight forward on the table in a show of aggressive strength (that also served to steady her shaking limbs), she growled impressively, "You don't have to stay, _Mrs. Weasley._ No one is required to take the oath, but I will not permit Al- Professor Dumbledore to speak more about the informant unless the promise is made. Even _if_ you do send Harry away now," she continued, her tone thick with promise, "I will tell Harry everything later when those with _no authority_ to be dictating his actions anyway aren't around."

Molly Weasley puffed up in outrage at the insinuation against her. " _No authority?_ Harry is just as much a part of my family as any of my other children! I'm only looking out for what's best for him!"

Sirius was getting more than a little irritated to be so casually disregarded as the witches exchanged barbed words. "Harry is already aware of part of what – I assume – is being revealed tonight, so I say that it is in his best interest to gain full disclosure from the source while we are in an environment to monitor the information. As his _godfather_ , it _is_ within my rights to say that Harry can stay. Let him go, Molly."

Molly Weasley's glare was filled with venom as she looked at the raven-haired Marauder. "Some godfather, Sirius Black! Getting yourself locked up so that he has to live with those awful Muggles!"

Remus leapt to his feet to defend his friend when Albus Dumbledore finally stepped in. "That's enough. Sirius is right, Molly," the Marauder looked down at the plump witch triumphantly. "It is his right to permit Harry to stay. I also have no doubt that Miss Granger will follow through on her promise, should he leave. It is your decision, however, whether you wish to have your sons present."

Fred and George's smiles dropped from their faces and their stances grew rigid. George looked around the room mutinously, while Fred's blue gaze met his mother's unrelenting one, head on. "We're of age. We have just as much right to be here as Bill."

" _Bill_ ," Molly Weasley said, which caused her eldest to shift uneasily, "is no longer a student nor does he reside under my roof. So long as one of those two is the case, you will heed my word. Go back upstairs with the others." When the twins made no immediate move to jump to, Molly's face flushed a deep crimson and she enunciated, " _Now!_ "

Now, Maia was a witch of her word and she had every intention of following through to providing answers to the twins, as was agreed when they assisted her with Harry's relocation, but she knew that she had already pushed her luck as far as she could – at least, for now – with Harry's attendance. She was surprised when Bill rose to his feet beside her and made his way over to his brothers.

Seeing the look of confusion on Maia's face, he shrugged and said, "I'll escort them out and keep them company. I can always swear my silence later, yeah?" Knowing they had no other choice at this point, though Maia thought she heard one of them mutter that they _weren't_ presently living under "her roof," the three red-headed Weasley offspring left the kitchen. Molly was quick to erect previously forgotten privacy charms at the kitchen door, not trusting that Bill would be able to keep the twins from listening in if they really tried.

The exodus of the three Weasleys caused a few others to rise to their feet as well, all older Order members. While Emmeline Vance felt that she would have no need to no more about the informant, Mundungus Fletcher outright refused to risk his magic to the "harpy." Elphias Doge yielded to his good friend, Albus Dumbledore's, judgment and made his way out, as well. His age meant that he could only provide so much physical support to the Order at this point, anyway; his written words would have a much greater effect. With the ban for sharing information in place, Elphias saw no reason to stay.

Maia was relieved when everyone remaining rose their wands and repeated Harry's oath, though some – Molly Weasley and Alastor Moody – were more reluctant than others. Albus Dumbledore was looking at her with that deceptive twinkle. With a small smile, partially hidden behind his white whiskers, he genially asked, "I trust that is to your satisfaction, Miss Granger?"

Maia ground her teeth in frustration. She always hated chess. The moves and countermoves, the anticipation and prediction of what your opponent would do next. Her relationship with Albus Dumbledore had become a game, and she was struggling to determine the next move that would end it in her favor. Would it be better to ask him to leave? She was far too tired to continue with his political machinations, and the conversation ahead was going to drain whatever she had remaining in her reserves. Perhaps it would be better to have him stay and answer for what he did to her. Let his _precious_ Order see him for the manipulative old coot that he was…

"Hermione?" Harry's quiet voice brought her out of deliberation and back to the room filled with people awaiting her answer. She nodded her head at the headmaster and he gave her a full smile in return.

Maia took a deep breath and began, "Many of you know me as Hermione Jean Granger; that is true. I have spent the past four years as a student in Gryffindor house and best friend to Harry Potter. The decade before that, I was the much-wanted, peculiar daughter of David and Jane Granger. That is not –"

"Lies," Alastor Moody interrupted, causing a few to startle. Maia was a little surprised to see the antagonistic look on Lupin and Black's faces at the disruption. "How are we to believe anything that comes out of your mouth? A _Death Eater_ ," here, many gasped in surprise and disgust at the accusation, "cannot be trusted."

Maia was fed up with the prejudiced ex-Auror and whipped out her wand. Before anyone would stop her, she bound Moody to his chair and wordlessly silenced him. Standing shakily to her feet, Maia ignored the agitated movements of the others and the disapproving stare of the headmaster as she forcefully strode to the silently yelling man. Knowing that this would come back to bite her but damning the consequences – the Sorting Hat hadn't wanted to originally place her in Gryffindor for nothing – she used her right hand, still wrapped around her wand, to harshly jerk up the long sleeve on her left arm. With the fabric bunched to the crease of her elbow, Maia shoved the black brand of her Dark Mark in Moody's anger splotched face. Maia stared down at the man with a wolfish grin, and asked, "Where's your _constant vigilance_ now?"

Her gloating lasted only a moment and she found herself immediately regretting her choice of words to Moody when she found herself in a nearly identical position to the ex-Auror. With her arms bound to the chair, the Dark Mark was clearly visible for the whole room to see. She watched with sharp dismay as her wand flew out of her hand and landed in the open palm of Sirius Black. Glowering at him, she demanded, "Return my wand, Black." Harry's dark brows, which stood out noticeably against his pale skin, rose at her address.

"Miss Granger," Albus Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I informed you of the conditions for receiving your wand. I'm disappointed –"

"Piss on your 'disappointment,' Albus!" Maia declared, causing Molly Weasley to inhale sharply. " _That man_ cannot get over his prejudice long enough to hear me out! You want to speak of _trust_? How can _I_ trust any of _you_ –"

"Miss Granger –"

"A week! I was left in that unconscionable state, reliving one nightmare after another, for a _fucking week!_ How else –"

" _Maia Malfoy_ ," Dumbledore commanded. The use of her true name snapped Maia's mouth shut, causing her to swallow the vitriol that burned to spew forth. Remus and Sirius looked on at the interaction dumbfounded. The name was familiar, in the sense that all their former classmates were, but it was impossible for this to be the same witch given her age. Perhaps she was named for her assumed-dead aunt?

Dumbledore withdrew his wand and released the spells that bound Alastor Moody. The latter rose to his feet and stomped over to the witch. "What should we do with her, Albus?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked with aggravation to the other wizard. "What I had always intended. We let her tell the truth, as I'd promised. Relations with her will be sensitive enough, and the Order needs full disclosure to interact with her appropriately."

Alastor Moody growled back, his lined face full of distrust. "Albus, you know –"

"What I _know_ ," Albus Dumbledore intoned, standing to his full, commanding height. "Is that you deliberately provoked her, and she responded in kind. If you cannot trust _her_ , then I am telling you to trust _me_."

"If I may, Headmaster…" Severus finally stepped forward from his position in the shadows. He ignored the disgusted sneer directed his way by Black. Maia Malfoy had obviously spent too long among the lions if she had ignored her essential Slytherin core that demanded self-preservation, but – for the sake of getting his own answers – he decided to help her.

"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore responded inquiringly.

"Perhaps the use of a little Veritaserum? For those among us who require a little more proof of her veracity, of course." Maia looked at him calculatingly.

"I agree," Maia said with a hint of hesitation, her gaze fixed on the Potions master. "On the condition that _you_ administer it." Turning her eyes antagonistically to Alastor Moody, she said to the room as a whole, "I have no desire to be overdosed by some overzealous bigot."

"No," Moody rejected vehemently. "How do we know that he'll give her enough, or if it is Veritaserum at all? Everyone knows that it's nearly indistinguishable from water."

"Maybe you'd like to test it, first?" Maia asked cheekily, causing a snort of amusement from someone behind the gruff wizard. When Dumbledore went to open his mouth, Maia scowled and said, "Not you."

"I'll do it," Sirius Black stated neutrally. When the others directed their attention to him, he continued, "As an Auror, I was trained in its use and application." Grey eyes met transfigured brown. "Is that acceptable?"

Maia took a minute to truly assess the wizard before her. Had anyone asked her back when they attended Hogwarts together if she would ever willingly submit herself to the use of Veritaserum by Sirius Black, she would have asked if they needed a personal escort to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. Time had a way of changing people, however, and her recollections of the care that Sirius had shown for Harry over the past year – even if from a distance – gave her enough evidence to place her faith in him now. She had to assume that he wouldn't do anything to harm her, not with Harry here as a witness. Taking a deep breath to steady herself and releasing it on a slow exhale, she nodded and said, "It is."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said with a clap of his weathered hands. He resumed his seat and looked to his Potions professor. "Severus? If you would retrieve the potion from your stores, we will await your return."

Severus Snape gave a jerky nod in acquiescence, more than a little irate that he had been usurped by _sodding Black_ and that Maia had gone along with it. _So much for being the only person she trusted._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I'm back, and I'm sorry for taking so long. The last month has been a whirlwind of school assignments and doctor's appointments, but with graduation next week, I'll hopefully be able to get back to a regular writing schedule. Regardless, this will not be abandoned.
> 
> For all that this is one of the first scenes I thought of for this story, it was very difficult to write. As it has only undergone limited editing, please let me know if you catch any errors. Thanks for reading!

_How long did it really take a wizard to travel to Hogwarts to retrieve a potion?_ Maia wondered tiredly. She wasn't sure how long had passed since Severus had swept dramatically from the room, but even if it had only been a few minutes, the strain of the past week and the fatigue she had been fighting since leaving her room were attacking her with full force, now that she had nothing else to distract her. Deciding to be grateful that the others in the room were ignoring her, even if some continued to cast surreptitious glances in her direction and Harry appeared to be doing so only at the behest of Black and Lupin, Maia let her head – which suddenly seemed to weigh a tonne – fall against the back of her chair.

Somehow, despite the persistent ache in her neck and shoulders and the discomfort from having her arms tied to her chair, Maia gathered that she must have fallen asleep in whatever time it took for Severus to return. Her cheek stung faintly from the minor slap it had taken to awaken her, and she blinked bleary eyes up at her assailant. The obsidian eyes that returned her unfocused stare were flat, but when he commanded her to drink – an action she complied with automatically – she realized that he must care at least a _mite_. The steam erupting from her ears due to the provided Pepper Up sent limp strands of her hair flying for a minute before settling back down around her face. The energizing effect of the potion was more than welcome, and Maia felt more confident in her ability to get through the upcoming interrogation.

She didn't know if he caught the look of sincere gratitude that she sent his way, but Black certainly seemed to, if the mild disgust on his face was any indication. The raven-haired Marauder approached Severus and held out his hand expectantly. It took a sharp reprimand from Dumbledore to get Severus to comply with handing over the bottle, and the smug look that flashed briefly across Black's face did little to set her at ease.

Maia watched with mild trepidation as Black approached her with the seemingly innocent potion bottle. She internally shook it off, knowing – at least cognitively – that he knew what he was doing. He was an Auror at one point, so she certainly _hoped_ he remembered. Aware that she had no other choice and recalling her own promise of cooperation, Maia promptly opened her mouth to receive the Veritaserum. She gave a harsh, futile jerk back when Black unexpectedly clenched his hand tightly, though not painfully, around her jaw to keep her mouth open, and she watched in horror as he proceeded to pour a second's stream of it into her mouth.

Black's face was impassive as he placed his restraining hand over her mouth and nose, preventing her from immediately spitting it back out and cutting off her air supply. "Swallow," he ordered.

Maia's eyes widened, and she was sure that some hint of betrayal shone through because his own face cringed with momentary discomfort. Realizing that he wasn't going to remove his hand until she did as he instructed, she swallowed the tasteless potion and immediately began to feel its effect. As soon as her face was free from his calloused palm, she took a deep breath, filling her aching lungs, and ripped into him. "Circe's tits, Black! I asked not to be overdosed! What the fuck kind of Auror were you?" Hearing an outraged gasp from her Order filled audience, she tartly reprimanded, "Save your indignation for someone who believes it, Molly Weasley. I know perfectly well that your brothers got most of their _spectacular_ vocabulary from you."

"Tell us what you really think," Black said wryly, settling back into his chair between Lupin and Harry with ease.

Maia bristled in her chair in as much as her invisible constraints allowed. Her glare was heated as it met his. The powerful effect of the potion in her system meant that any filter she may have maintained under a normal dosage was obliterated. "Any _moron_ knows that a couple of drops are sufficient to gain a truthful response, but I suppose you missed that lesson in Auror training. No doubt you were off shagging the nearest bint that showed an interest. Don't know who could have been left in the female population that you hadn't already fucked, as you made the rounds pretty thoroughly at Hogwarts."

For all that Severus knew he should probably step in and put a silencing spell on her – the mutt really _had_ used far too much, and it was obvious that he didn't respect the trouble it took to brew – he was quite thoroughly enjoying the tongue lashing that Black was receiving from his once-upon-a-time, hot-tempered best friend. If he didn't know better, he would assume that Black's flushed face and clenched jaw were a sign of an impending stroke.

"Funny, I don't remember doing _you_. Are you jealous, _Malfoy_? Sorry to disappoint, but I don't do snakes," Sirius retorted heatedly, trying his best not to strangle the wench. Screw the idea of her being named after an aunt; it was clear from the familiarity of her tone that she knew him, though it didn't do much to clarify why she hadn't aged like the rest of them. He was hardly embarrassed of his past liaisons – and if they had gone to school together, she _would_ know about them; he'd hardly been discrete – but she had some nerve implying that he let those interactions impact his former job. "For the record, the amount of Veritaserum I used _is_ the Ministry standard for known Death Eaters, _which you are_. It's the surest way of getting an honest answer from all but the strongest Occlumens."

"I guess it's lucky for you, then, that my shields are currently in tatters," she replied scathingly. _Shite!_ She _really_ didn't like admitting that in front of Dumbledore, but her mouth just kept running. "Otherwise, you would have wasted an inexcusable amount of a highly controlled, difficult to brew potion.

"And _for the record_ ," she enunciated with a derisive smile, "Fiorella Zabini would testify otherwise. In fact, I seem to recall that she was quite _generous_ in sharing the details of your tongue on her puss–" 

Her debauched rambling was immediately cut off by a silencing spell sent by Dumbledore, though words kept spilling from her mouth soundlessly. She hated that he had used his magic on her but was also immensely grateful that he had cut her off before she could continue further. Her former dormmate had been quite verbose about her encounter with the illustrious Sirius Orion Black III; it made her face flush a shade of red to match Harry's at recalling the particulars.

"As fascinating as I'm sure the encounter was," Dumbledore spoke wryly into the uncomfortable silence, "I believe that Miss Malfoy was correct about the dosage. We are not here as Aurors, and so the use of Ministry policy also fails to apply. She is not on trial." Maia shot a venomous glare to a scoffing Moody where he'd been banished at the back of the room. "As there is nothing to counteract it, however, we will have to let it run its course. To ensure that we keep the potion-induced digressions to a minimum, I suggest that we keep the number of people presenting questions to a select few. Now, Miss Malfoy –"

The second the silencing spell had been released, Maia shook her head vehemently and bluntly said, "I don't trust you. I cannot have you in charge of the questioning, you manipulative bastard." She looked in appeal back to the Potions master hiding in the shadows, ignoring the disapproving and shocked looks that graced the face of many of the Order members. "Severus, please –"

"Why don't you trust him?" Harry's voice interrupted.

For all her personal dislike, she knew that Harry highly respected the headmaster and was mentally reluctant to share her less-than-positive opinion of the man; the Veritaserum coursing through her veins, however, had no care for the sensibilities she wished to protect. "Because after _everything_ I did for him and his _fucking_ Order, he tried to kill me. He may not have pointed his wand and cast an _Avada_ , but had I not erected my Occlumency shields in time, I would have ceased to exist as I knew it."

Dumbledore kept a passive demeanor under the scrutiny of the members present. Calmly, he began, "We have discussed –"

"Yes, yes," Maia interrupted again impatiently, waving her fingers in lieu of her restricted hand in a motion of nonchalance. "I agreed with you that one spy did not merit copious protection. We _also_ discussed the fact that you had no right to take that choice from me, nor were you justified in placing me to be raised by Muggles."

"Muggles not good enough to raise a _Malfoy_?" Moody asked tauntingly.

Maia's eyes cut to him through the crowd and replied scathingly, "The Grangers are some of the most loving and generous people that I have ever had the pleasure to know. The upbringing they provided for me was _leagues_ beyond what I received as the daughter of Abraxas Malfoy, but it does not belie the fact that Albus cast a non-consensual _Tabula rasa_ spell with no thought to the consequences should my original identity have been discovered. Both the Grangers and I were left helpless."

Only a few – the Purebloods and Lupin, notably – seemed to recognize the spell that she had so casually thrown out, and those that did looked on at Albus Dumbledore with varied looks ranging from disbelief to apprehension. Even Moody, as antagonistic as he had been, was looking between the two with some grudging speculation. Raising her hand to gain the room's attention, the Pink Witch curiously asked, "For those of us who _don't_ spend our free time studying obscure magic, what is a _Tabula rasa_ spell?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Maia asked indignantly, ignoring the question itself to respond a little defensively. It was too easy to recall all the negative slurs thrown at her Muggle-born identity for her inclination towards academics. "It's not just _bookworms_ that –"

"It translates to 'clean slate,'" Severus said neutrally after wordlessly casting another silencing spell in Maia's direction, knowing that she would be internally fuming at being cut off. He had known that Dumbledore was willing to go to many lengths to see that the Dark Lord failed, had recognized that his contributions as a spy determined how expendable he was to his "masters," but that spell was a lot to cast at someone haphazardly, especially when that someone was a supposed ally. "It's considered grey magic, but legally banned nonetheless. It was originally created as a means of rehabilitation for dark witches and wizards that persons of authority had deemed valuable due to their exceptional power, but irreparable in their current state. A _Tabula rasa_ will remove all trace of who the person was, erasing their mind and reducing their age, so that they begin life anew. In a sense, all memory charms used in the present can be said to fall under the umbrella of _Tabula rasa_."

"That seems preferable to a death sentence or life in Azkaban," the Pink Witch replied lightly, not understanding the apprehensive and speculative looks remaining on a few faces.

"To some, it may be, Miss Tonks," Severus replied darkly, "but they found that a witch or wizard's innate nature could not be completely disregarded, and the damage inflicted on one's soul doesn't go away just because they have no recollection of their prior identity and actions. It also presents its own disadvantages. Can you imagine trying to control a child with the magical, already tainted, core of a mature wizard?"

"There is also the issue of the condemned's lifespan," Remus interjected, catching the cutting look that the Potions master sent his way at his interruption and ignoring it. The young witch – _Miss Tonks_ , Remus internally corrected – looked at him with interest. "Our magical cores are what give us our extended life. De-aging them with the _Tabula rasa_ only does so physically; it doesn't affect their core."

He looked to Maia where she sat quietly, the implications of who she was and what had happened to her fully settling in his mind uncomfortably. "Miss Malfoy, having already confirmed that she is the daughter of Abraxas Malfoy by naming one of our shared classmates, should be in her mid-thirties and her core will reflect that. When she presumably dies of old age, she will appear to have died about 20 years before her time."

"The use of a such a spell usually results in its own Azkaban sentence," Moody, the ex-Auror, observed. "Though, I'm sure, you had a justifiable cause, Albus. You've alluded that she was a spy; she's hinted the same. Did the chit betray the Order?" The question carried an intonation that Moody certainly expected as much. They'd already had one traitor in Pettigrew; it was possible that they'd missed another. Some looked to the headmaster to see how he responded, while others looked to the bound witch in speculation over her loyalties.

Albus Dumbledore realized that this line of questioning could go downhill quickly. He could see, in his periphery, that Harry's face had already darkened with what he'd learned. He admitted to being slightly surprised that the boy hadn't given into his Gryffindor impulses and verbally assaulted him with his assumed conclusions, but perhaps that was Sirius's influence. Albus had heard the animagus cautioning Harry that in order to stay, he had to listen and to leave the questioning to those who would know what to ask. For all his shared care of the girl the last week, Albus could tell that Sirius was still hesitant in offering his trust.

"As many of you will recall," Albus began, folding his hands across his stomach as he leaned back in his chair, "the months before the attack on the Potters were dark times, indeed. In the few months before they were betrayed, we had lost several of our own. Benjy. Fabian and Gideon. Edgar Bones and his family." Molly sniffled from her seat next to Arthur at the mention of her brothers.

"Miss Malfoy had agreed to serve as a spy for the Order, but her position was compromised. She came to me in August of that year seeking my assistance. In return for her service, I agreed that she should go into hiding, and placed her with the McKinnons, who had also gone into retreat. It is unknown how they were found a month after her placement, but Miss Malfoy was the sole survivor of that massacre."

Maia was livid. What was the fucking _point_ of ingesting Veritaserum if he was just going to convince them of his version? Not only was he painting her as incompetent for having her cover blown, but he also was leaving the culprit for the McKinnons' deaths open to interpretation. The deadly looks being shot her way by Black, alone, told of the weight given to Dumbledore's words.

"When Miss Malfoy came to me that evening, I knew that I had nowhere else to place her. At this point, she was nearly as wanted by Voldemort," – _fucking_ arse, Maia thought as her Mark burned again – "as the Potters for her betrayal. She knew too much, and I could not risk her capture. A simple Obliviate would have wiped her memories, but her looks are still distinctive enough that her safety would remain in question. I did what I felt was necessary for the good of the Order and for her."

A few heads were nodding in acknowledgement, while others continued to look undecided. Molly Weasley, in particular, was accepting of Dumbledore's story, but Arthur appeared to be a little more dubious. Maia could have kissed Harry when he ignored Black and interjected, "So, it doesn't matter what someone has done for the Order in the past if they're no longer useful in the present?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied, speaking to the room at large. "Miss Malfoy and I have already discussed this incident prior to this meeting, and though we disagree with the ends, we are certainly in agreement for why it was done."

Maia was practically shouting out her irritation at being discussed like she wasn't there, but the silencing spell still bound her words from being heard. Remus finally noticed the furor of the young witch and suggested, "Why don't we let Miss Malfoy speak, as was originally intended? Otherwise we're wasting our time."

He was going to proceed, even without Dumbledore's supercilious nod of approval, and he looked directly at his prior, unintentional charge. Though it felt a little odd to be addressing the witch – one of his own classmates, apparently – with such formality, he hoped that it would help to ease some of the tension in the room to see a demonstration of professionalism. Godric knew that, only a few days out from the moon, he was in no state for this to continue as it had. "Miss Malfoy, you agreed to consume Veritaserum so that questions about your identity and your role in the Order could be laid to rest. There won't be any other interruptions." He looked ominously around the room, his eyes forceful even with the headmaster. "If you're ready, I'm going to remove the silencing charm now."

Maia took a deep breath and nodded her head, grateful that someone seemed to be on her side, even if nominally. She wanted to have a serious talk with Severus, later, but doubted it would do her much good; he _had_ said she was a fool to trust him.

Maia didn't feel the spell lift but knew from Lupin's wand movements that he'd done as he'd said. She closed her eyes and wondered where to begin. The Pepper Up was beginning to fade – it hadn't been a large dose – so she needed to have her say before it completely wore off. She had a feeling that once she fell asleep this time, she wasn't going to be waking up again until her body was fully recharged. She opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Severus, determined not to look at the reactions of anyone else as she told her tale. Besides Harry, he was the one she felt was most owed an explanation, and perhaps it would do some good if he recognized the effort.

"Despite earlier accusations about the veracity of my claim, I _am_ Hermione Granger, but as Albus has alluded, I am not _only_ Hermione Granger.

"I was born in September 1959 to Abraxas and Ophelia Malfoy; my mother died in childbirth." She risked a glance at Harry, raised by Muggles and unaware of wizarding genealogy, and knew that her parents' names would mean nothing to him. "My older brother is Lucius Malfoy." The immediate disgust on his face hurt, but she hardly blamed him, given his only interaction with her sibling. She returned her eyes to Severus, hidden though he was in shadow.

"As the first daughter born to the Malfoy line in centuries, I was treasured, at least to an extent. Those of you who grew up in traditional Pureblood households should have a basic understanding of my upbringing." There was a mix of short and slow nods at the statement, and Maia thought she saw a grimace cross Black's face. "For those that didn't, a certain deportment is expected of you as a Pureblood child. Without my mother as a buffer, Abraxas was…diligent, I suppose you could say…in his teachings and expectations of us. Disobedience was swiftly rewarded with curses. Nothing that would leave an outward mark, of course," she conceded with tired shrug, "but effective. As a child, I was precocious and a tad rebellious; I didn't want to be a Pureblood witch as I understood it to be. I was disciplined often, prior to Hogwarts."

She finally looked fully at Harry, taking in the inquisitive look in his green eyes, so like Lily's on learning about _anything_ new. With a small smile, she continued, "I'd never had an opportunity to meet a Muggle or Muggle-born before attending Hogwarts. Abraxas and Lucius told such stories of them, and I thought that it would be easy to recognize them on sight. When a fuming red-head came charging into the cabin on the Hogwarts Express where Lucius had left me, raving about some arrogant toerag to her dark-haired companion, I didn't know what to think." She thought her eyes were deceiving her at seeing the barely perceptible smiles from both Black and Severus at the shared memory.

"We spent the rest of the train ride amicably, once it was settled that I was not prejudiced against Slytherin. How could I be, when centuries of Malfoys belonged to the house? Imagine my surprise at putting on the Sorting Hat and having it whisper that I was better suited to red and gold." Black and Lupin looked on in surprise, but Maia's gaze was focused more on Severus and his contemptuous sneer. Maia released a bitter laugh. "I disagreed. I couldn't face Abraxas if I weren't sorted in Slytherin, and so I instructed the hat differently. It acquiesced to my request without too much of a fight; I'm sure I wasn't the first Pureblood child to make such an appeal. I wrote off the uneasiness of my decision as a misunderstanding by the hat; surely, if I were meant to dwell amongst the brave lions, I would have had the courage to stand up to my family for it." She looked directly at Black and gave him a self-deprecating smile. "I rather envied you for that."

Sirius swallowed at remembering his mixed emotions that night. The elation at being placed in Gryffindor with his new friend, James. Relief that came from the confirmation that he was _not_ like his family. Fear, for how it would affect his brother and what retaliation he could expect for himself. With a tight smile in return, he said, "If Abraxas was anything like my mother, I believe I may understand."

Maia laughed, and her eyes turned mischievous. "Did you know that you could have been my brother? It was quite the scandal at home amongst the elves. Walburga sought a contract with my father while they were at Hogwarts together, and she hated that my mother had 'stolen' him from her. Apparently, her marriage to your father wasn't too much of a deterrent, either, after my mother passed." She watched him shudder in revulsion at the idea, before a cleared throat pulled her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Right, no time for stale gossip." Maia paused momentarily to gather her thoughts, staring blanking into the room. "So, I was sorted into Slytherin alongside my dark-haired companion from the train, while his red-headed friend ended up in Gryffindor. I had little desire to associate with my female dormmates – all backstabbing Purebloods eager to prove themselves a proper witch – and found myself seeking the company of the sullen boy from the train. As he continued to associate with his red-haired friend, I got to know her as well. Over that first year, we became as inseparable as friends from different houses could be. Lily Evans was the sister I never had." Her eyes were intent on Harry so that she could see every nuance of his reaction to her claim.

Harry was dumbfounded. _She knew his mother?_ He looked at Sirius and Remus and noted their lack of surprise. They knew, then, that his mother was friends with Slytherins?

"Over time, we had to be more discrete with the time spent together," Maia said carefully. "Though I had long since thrown aside all of the prejudice that I was fed from birth, there were still appearances to uphold until we graduated. We often spoke about the flat we would get together while we advanced our educations further in one mastery or another. We were constantly in competition," she admitted with a sad smile. At seeing Harry's expression, eating up everything she had to share about his mother, she closed her eyes and sighed. "We didn't have the time we thought we would. First it was a marriage contract betrothing me to a wizard a couple of years ahead of us, and then it was the attention of the Dark Lord, himself.

"It happened in the summer before our final year at Hogwarts. Abraxas was a staunch financial supporter of the Dark Lord, having gone to school with him in his youth; he felt that in siding with the Dark Lord, we would bring order back to a world teetering on the brink of chaos. Lucius followed in his footsteps, agreeing to take the Mark as a sign of his dedication to the cause. The Dark Lord was Abraxas's guest of honor, and he stayed with us that summer. If I had known that I'd catch his attention, I swear I would have everything I could to prevent it. Whatever it was that attracted his notice, it secured me his favor and earned me the additional pressure from Abraxas to join the cause once I was finished with school. He felt that my personal association with the Dark Lord would secure the future of the Malfoy family."

Merlin, she really could use some water. For all that Hermione was a bit of a swot, eager to share her knowledge with others, she couldn't recall the last time she had talked this long, uninterrupted. Clearing her throat, she stated, "Naturally, I told Lily when we returned from summer hols, and we spent months brainstorming ways to get me out of it. It was right before we left for Christmas that I was approached by the headmaster with a unique proposition.

"Now, a spy, in and of itself, isn't a unique occupation. That he was asking it of a barely-of-age, Pureblood witch, however, was. Pureblooded witches can be quite sheltered, and it is expected that they defer to the male members of their family for all matters of import. The information that he needed from a person in this position would require a level of commitment not seen in most witches of that station; it required a level of autonomy that I, personally, had not before experienced. Given the interest the Dark Lord had in me, I knew that I could provide valuable intelligence, but I was still undecided, unsure how far I was willing to go for the sake of information. To accept this position was a risk for me and my family, for all that they were willingly participating. Despite appearances, family is everything to a Malfoy." This last statement was said in such a way as to dare anyone to contradict her. When no one did, she continued, "I didn't accept until Lily told me that she was going to join the fight against the Dark Lord, as a member of Dumbledore's Order."

Her statement hit Harry in the gut as he understood exactly what she said. Hermione had always been unwaveringly loyal to him, even when he didn't fully appreciate it. It caused him some discomfort to recall the way he had ignored her over the incident with the Firebolt. It turns out that her loyalty was no new trait. If family was everything to a Malfoy and she was willing to risk them all because his mother had joined the fight, she must have loved his mother very much.

"I spent the next four years as a spy for the Order. I made sure that no one would be able to learn my identity, thereby keeping myself and those I loved safe –"

"How did you do it?" Black asked, curious. "Dumbledore was right. I don't remember any one person sticking out. Least, not until Snivellus showed up." Maia rolled her eyes at the childish nickname before the Veritaserum forced her to answer.

"It was something that Lily and I discovered while experimenting," she stated proudly. Harry thought that she looked more like Hermione, now, having received some abstract form of positive feedback, than she had all night. "A combination of Polyjuice and human transfiguration."

Remus felt something click in his head. With a slight blush warming his cheeks at blatantly acknowledging his condition, he stated, "That's why you smell differently. You used this method before the _Tabula rasa_ , didn't you?"

"I did," Maia said. "I used a Muggle girl's hair for the Polyjuice and modified my appearance from that. The combination is exempt from the time limitations of Polyjuice, and no one would recognize me through the human transfiguration as it wasn't my bone structure that had been modified. The Polyjuice acted as an anchor for the glamour, so that the latter wouldn't take a magical drain to maintain. The Tabula rasa affected my physical state, as it was then." She heard a huff from the back of the room and smiled cheekily. "You're not _impressed_ , are you, Moody?"

"It's clever," he offered grudgingly. His eyes narrowed a little as he rejoined, "Would have been useful in undercover work, if such techniques were shared."

"You know now," Maia said with a casual shrug. "It apparently wasn't that good; I was still found out by Pettigrew."

Black and Lupin tensed at the name of the former Marauder. Black was the one to pose the question, "How do you know it was Pettigrew?"

"I don't, for certain," Maia admitted. "It is purely theory based on what I know, now. How many known deserters are there? At the time that Severus told me that my identity had been compromised, all he could say was that a traitor to the Order had given me up to Bellatrix, Antonin, and Avery. I left within the hour to go into hiding, and Severus took up my post as spy."

"Why would he do that?" Black asked suspiciously. Lupin was watching with avid interest.

"He lo–" Another silencing spell by Severus Snape kept her from spilling his secrets while under Veritaserum.

"That is none of your business, Black," he sneered scathingly. He waited until Maia's mouth closed, showing that she had finished answering Black's question, before he released the spell again.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore said that you were as wanted by Voldemort," Maia cringed at the pain in her arm, "as my family. You said he had a personal interest in you…"

"I was a prize, I suppose," Maia explained indifferently. "A symbol of his success. Not only was I the only female of my line and a powerful witch, but in serving him, I had become a member of his inner circle, a fact which only deepens my perceived betrayal. I was one of the most feared of his followers, though I'll never understand why. It was likely that which bought me enough time to escape. Few would dare to confront me directly without the Dark Lord's permission."

Moody clunked his way forward, his face set in suspicion. "There were a couple Death Eaters that gained notoriety in the first war. Few were female. Who were you?"

Maia fidgeted, wishing the potion's effects would begin to fade, and grudgingly said, "They called me Belle Morte."

All the members of the first Order, save Dumbledore, and the dark-skinned newcomer rose to their feet and drew their wands. Harry looked around in confusion at the response while Maia huffed in irritation. "I'm already bound and outnumbered. You have my wand. What do you possibly think I can do to the lot of you?"

"You were one of the Auror department's most wanted," Black stated with venom. "For the deaths of dozens of Muggles, witches, and wizards. Why shouldn't we put an end to you, now? Turn you in to the Ministry?" Harry stared at her in horror.

Maia growled impressively. "I suppose you haven't been listening, Black. I joined _him_ at the direction of _Albus Dumbledore_. What the _fuck_ do you think I had to do to get information for the Order? It was hardly going to be entrusted to me if I didn't demonstrate my commitment.

"Do you have any concept of what it's like to attend one of his revels? To see innocents – captured in raids – tortured, beaten, and raped, repeatedly? What I offered was mercy. My victims – for I am _fully_ aware that is what they were – were not getting out alive, and there was _nothing_ I could do to save them, unless I was willing to blow my cover. Had I tried, they would still be dead, and the Order would have been destroyed. I may not have been privy to everything, but there was enough information in my head to be dangerous to our mission. A good Occlumens I might be, but even _I_ am not so arrogant as to assume that I couldn't be broken." Maia paused, her throat getting thick with emotion that she normally occluded to function normally. Shaking her head, she reaffirmed, "I gave them a quick death. I could do no more."

Silence reigned while those present took in all they'd learned about the girl they thought they knew as Hermione Granger. It was hitting Harry the hardest, and he was finding it difficult to reconcile the image of his best friend murdering others in cold blood. His voice was choked when he asked, "Why are you here? Why now?"

"The Dark Lord returned, and the strength of his summons on the night negated the effects of the _Tabula rasa_. I'm not sure if that really answers your question, though," Maia said, looking at Harry curiously. When she finally caught his wary eyes, she asked, "Why am I here? To ensure that, this time, when the Dark Lord is defeated, he stays dead. To guarantee the lives of those I love and avenge those whose lives were lost. For Lily. For you."

"Why for me?"

Maia gave him a small smile in reassurance, though her eyes spoke of her hesitation to answer. "Lily was my best friend, my sister, and it kills me what happened to her; that I couldn't stop it. I was so excited to hear that she was pregnant and so honored when she named me your godmother, even if it had to remain a secret. I haven't been able to take care of you as she would have wanted, but I am going to do my best to do right by you, now."

Harry looked shell shocked at her claim. Sirius noticed and, feeling more than a little defensive and possessive of Harry, firmly stated, "James would never have agreed to a Slytherin – a _Malfoy_ – as Harry's godmother."

The Pepper Up potion had about run its course, and Maia gave a tired chuckle. "He would if Lily got him completely plastered, first."

"Maia will be resuming her identity as Hermione Granger so that we have someone close to Harry at all times," Albus Dumbledore stated, speaking up to bring the interrogation to an implied close. "It is imperative that she be treated as she always has. She will report to me as needed."

"The fuck I will," Maia muttered mutinously. It appeared that only Lupin heard, as he shot her a cautious look of amusement.

"To maintain her cover, she will likely not be present at Order meetings. She will be staying here at Grimmauld for the remainder of the summer holidays, so be attentive of your interactions with her."

Maia just laughed bitterly and closed her eyes. He was seeking to ostracize her, apparently. No matter. She had plenty to keep her attention over the next several weeks. She'd need to approach the twins to get an idea of their interest in working with her on finding a semi-permanent solution to the problem of her appearance…

Maia was pulled from her musing to witness the elder Weasleys in an escalating argument. Molly rose to her feet, her shoulders tense as she planted her hands firmly on her hips. "No, Arthur! I can't believe that you're even considering it! Have you no care for our children?"

Seeing that she had the attention of the rest of the room, Molly looked pointedly at Maia and commanded, "I will keep up the pretense, as Albus has deemed it best, but you are not to be alone with any of the children for the duration of this summer. You will not share with them any details of your past. I may not have had a say in Harry's presence tonight, though I still stand by my opinion that he didn't need to know his _godmother_ is a _murderess_ ," – _like you knew that information beforehand_ , Maia thought uncharitably – "But I will not back down from this. Do you understand?"

Well, wasn't _that_ a bit insulting? If she had wanted to hurt Harry or the Weasleys, she could have easily done so in the week following the Third Task. And how was she supposed to work with Fred and George if she couldn't explain the nature of her predicament? From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry sitting stiff as a board in his chair, obviously angry at the implication that Molly Weasley would have kept him in the dark; if there was one thing that Harry didn't like, it was to have information purposely kept from him. If he was still on her side, perhaps he'd be willing to help her…

Seeing that Molly was still waiting on a response, she nodded her head shortly. "I understand perfectly."

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet and approached Maia. With a wave of his wand, he released her bonds and gave her a minute to rub the circulation back into her wrists. When she raised her eyes to his, he stated gravely, "While I don't believe, based on your upbringing, that you would do anything while a guest in Sirius's home," Maia's eyebrows rose at that, "I will cede the decision of your time with her children to Molly's judgment. As a precaution, to both give the Order more time to develop their trust in you and in light of your rash actions towards Alastor this evening, your wand will be kept by a member of the Order until such time as you return to Hogwarts."

The extended loss of her wand was one hit too many, and Maia slumped back in her seat with her eyes tightly closed. Her raw emotions caused her eyes to sting as tears formed behind her lids. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself; she would not let Albus Dumbledore see that he got to her. He would not see her cry. Knowing that if she opened her mouth, her efforts would be for naught, she merely nodded her head in wordless acceptance.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Malfoy," Dumbledore offered kindly. Maia just wanted to scoff. As the elder wizard turned back to the rest of the room, he invited, "I feel that we have discussed all we can tonight. We will reconvene in a few days to discuss our next steps. I encourage you all to take this time to get to know one another, perhaps set up a system of mentorship for our newest members.

"Severus, I would like to speak to you before I go."

Severus looked briefly toward the wilted witch at the front of the room, wishing that he had the time to speak with her further about her allegiances, but followed the headmaster out the door instead.

"Herm-…err…" The hesitant sound of Harry's voice caught Maia's attention.

"Hermione's fine, Harry. What is it?"

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another in discomfort but offered her a tentative smile. "You look like shite."

Maia gave a tired laugh at the blunt observation. "I feel like shite. I need a bath and a bed." Looking mildly indecisive, she clarified, "I'm not sure in which order."

Harry flushed at the mention of her bathing. Even if she wasn't his godmother – _Merlin, he had a godmother_ – he didn't fancy imagining his best friend bathing, either. With a cough, he said, "I can show you where the bathroom is, before taking you back to your room."

Molly must have heard his offer, because she spoke loudly over the polite conversation taking place throughout the room. "Not alone. Let me take her…"

"I'm perfectly safe with _Hermione_ ," Harry snapped back, green eyes flashing.

"It's alright, Molly, I can accompany –" Remus began, before he was interrupted by the pink-haired Miss Tonks.

"Oh, will you be back? I wanted to learn more about that _Tabula rasa_ spell you mentioned."

Remus looked uncomfortable with the blatant interest the young witch was showing, eyeing Maia and Harry before turning his attention back to her. "Actually, it was Severus, Miss Tonks –"

"Just Tonks," the other witch said with a bright smile. "No 'miss' required. It's far too stuffy, makes me feel old."

"Err…right…" Remus hemmed. "Let me just –"

"I can take them, Moony," Sirius stated, noting his friend's subtle discomfort. Obviously, it had been too long since his friend last had a "friendly" conversation with a bird if he could get worked up this quickly. Even if it was his cousin – one he had a hard time seeing as more than the kid he once knew – he would enjoy teasing the werewolf about it later. He casually shrugged. "It's just a couple flights of stairs."

Harry was irritated at the extreme measures that were being taken to babysit them, but Maia was far too tired to care. Perhaps she would go to bed, first. Though a bath would be heavenly, she was suddenly wary of falling asleep in the tub and drowning.

What cemented that decision for her was the hard stumble when she rose to her feet. The only thing that saved her from falling on her face was Black's quick reflexes, his hands grasping her upper arms to keep her aloft. Looking up at him briefly, she muttered a quiet, "Thanks." Harry then stepped forward and put his arm around her waist to help guide her from the kitchen.

If either wizard were irritated with her slow progress, neither gave any indication of it. Each step taken to the upper floors felt like she was dragging cement blocks instead of her aching feet. It took much of her concentration just to move and most of her mental reserves had been exhausted, so she had no time to come up with a subtle way to communicate with Harry while Black looked on. She supposed, knowing Harry as she did, that a more direct approach would be better, anyway.

When he stopped at the door outside her room, Maia held him in place with a hand on his arm. Keeping her voice low, she said, "Harry, _tell_ the twins. Please pass along my apologies that I couldn't speak with them tonight."

Harry looked at Hermione closely, trying to gauge if he had heard her correctly. Seeing her steady, if fatigued, eyes looking back at him, he assumed he had been given the go ahead to relay that evening's discussion to Fred and George. Though he distinctly remembered her agreeing with Mrs. Weasley that she wouldn't say anything to the Weasley brood, he supposed that she hadn't agreed not to relay the information through someone already in the know. He gave her a small grin, finding himself appreciating Slytherin logic for the first time, and replied, "Sure thing, Hermione. Sleep well."

Maia smiled back at Harry and, before he could get too far, pulled him in for a tight hug. Ignoring their Marauder audience, she quietly said, "Thank you for believing me, Harry."

Harry had been startled by the embrace, but briefly returned it. Whoever she had been, this was still Hermione. "Always."

Maia leaned against the door frame to her room and watched as Harry disappeared into another further down the hall. She looked on with curiosity to see that Black was still standing there, watching her carefully. After a couple minutes of his silence, Maia found her already depleted patience gone. "What do you want, Black?"

Sirius gave her a deprecating smile. "Lovely manners. I'm sure your father would be so impressed at your retention."

Maia glared back at him. "Pot, meet kettle."

Sirius gave a barked laugh in response, not expecting the allusion. "Right. My mother would be rolling in her grave to see me now. Her portrait is certainly ecstatic to have her 'blood traitor' son back home."

Maia sighed, letting her head fall against the wood at her back. "Are you really holding me up to discuss the commonalities of our parents? I assure you, I couldn't give a rat's arse what Abraxas would have to say about my manners. My betrayal of his precious Dark Lord would be far higher on my list of concerns, if I had to run into him again."

Her response sobered the little camaraderie that her former jibe wrought. Looking at her with a seriousness that seemed out of place on his face, given what she remembered of him in the past, he said, "I won't let you hurt Harry."

"I have no intention of hurting Harry," she replied evenly. She knew that Sirius was only concerned for his well being, something she commended, so she didn't let his implied accusation hurt her.

"I still don't trust you," Sirius rejoined bluntly. His grey eyes were intent as they met hers.

"I'm not asking you to. Frankly, after that stunt with the Veritaserum, I don't trust you, either." When it appeared that he had nothing to say to that, Maia nodded her head. "Glad that's sorted. If that will be all, I'm going to turn in. Sleep's been eluding me of late, and I'm finding myself desirous of rectifying that. Goodnight, Black."

Without waiting for a response, Maia turned and entered her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. As much as she wished for her wand to ward against intrusion, the thought faded quickly at the sight of the rumpled bedspread awaiting her. Crossing the room as swiftly as her stiff limbs would allow, Maia wasted no time in pulling back the sheets and crawling between them, eager to fall under Morpheus's spell.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
> 
> I'm back! I'm sorry for the delay; I really didn't expect to be MIA for three months. Besides real life, I'd also just lost some traction with this story. The ideas are still there, but they're not translating to "paper" well. A million ideas for other stories I'm writing (fanfiction and original) keep coming up and I keep wanting to force this one, thereby resulting in the gift of writer's block from my frustrated muse. I'm going to try to take some of the pressure off this one by not committing to a schedule – for now – and start putting some of my other WIP stuff up. Maybe jumping between a few stories will keep my muse well fed enough that the words will start flowing again. As previously stated, it will not be abandoned.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to read, follow, and review, _especially_ when I haven't updated in a while! You have no idea just how happy it makes me to get an email with your reactions to the story. Imagine a fan-girl happy dance with a big grin that makes my husband smile and shake his head in amusement, because really, I think there are times he just doesn't know what to do with me. _That's_ how awesome you all are.

Maia frowned as she waved her Doxycide covered hand once again at the winged nuisance lying, temporarily dazed by a second-hand whiff of said potion, on the floor, partially hidden by the bottom edge of its former curtain residence. " _Flipendo!_ "

Nothing. Of course not. Considering that she hadn't had success with any of her previous attempts at the spell, she wasn't particularly surprised. With a scowl, Maia jerkily thrust her bottle down and gave the pest a heavy spritz, effectively knocking it out. Why had she never taken a greater interest in wandless magic?

_Because you never thought you'd go this long without a wand_ , a snarky inner voice replied. If anything had ever happened to her beloved vinewood – _Merlin forbid_ – she had more than enough money to buy another. Hell, she could probably buy all the wands in Ollivander's, for what good it would do her.

But, no. Nothing had happened to her wand, so why would she need a replacement? Rather, it was being held hostage by whichever Marauder was serving as her appointed guard for the day. It was very much still within reach, technically, if one could consider inhabiting the same residence within reach. Somehow, both wizards had managed to finagle their way out of the cleaning and decontaminating required to make Grimmauld Place safe for continued occupation, so who knew where her dear wand was at that moment.

_What she wouldn't give for it right about now_ , she thought with disgust, shaking her hand to remove the lingering drops from her leaking Doxycide bottle. She was sure that the Weasley matriarch had given her that bottle purposefully, knowing how difficult it was to remove the smell of the potion without magic. At least this day of cleaning should be almost done. She fully expected the announcement to go out that it was time to clean up for dinner any minute.

Maia supposed that it could be worse. Molly Weasley had apparently decided that giving her the silent treatment would be the most effective method of "interaction" with the young witch, which was hardly something that she could complain about. It had made the younger Weasley children increasingly curious, however, to know what she could have done in so short a span of time. Ron wondered if his mother still believed the nonsense published by Skeeter, while Ginny sarcastically congratulated her on earning the treatment normally reserved for the twins' worst pranks. For all that the red-headed witch was eager to learn what had won Hermione the frosty reception, she was rather grateful that whatever it was had resulted in her own room for their summer away from home. Fred and George had not yet had the opportunity to speak with the witch about Harry's revelations following the meeting two days prior, but they planned to take full advantage of that evening's Molly-mandatory study hours prior to curfew if the opportunity didn't present itself sooner.

"You know," Ron muttered as he halfheartedly sprayed another doxy of his own, "if this were a competition, I think you'd be losing, 'Mione. All that hand waving is slowing you down."

"If I could use my wand, this wouldn't be a competition at all," Maia muttered back through clenched teeth – _would he ever remember her dislike of that nickname?_ – bending over to pick up her unconscious victim before throwing it in with its defeated comrades in a nearby bucket. Speaking so that he could hear her, she snarked, "You're one to talk, Ronald. Even with my 'hand waving' – which, I'll have you know, was an attempt at wandless magic – I'm still moving faster than you. Could you move any slower?"

"Probably," he replied with a sideways grin to Harry. Harry just shook his head in amusement at their familiar antics. "Shall I try?"

"Why not? Maybe you'll draw your mother's attention and get her off my back for more than a few minutes."

"Yes, why don't you do that, Ron? Maybe then, Hermione and I can finally catch up on a little girl talk," Ginny said, strolling over to where the trio were working.

Harry looked between the two witches briefly before turning back to the increasingly potion saturated curtains. He groused, "Yeah, never mind me. You can pretend I'm not here for that, yeah?"

"Thanks, Harry. I wish my brothers were as considerate," Ginny said with a cheeky grin. With a huff, she waved her bottle filled hand down to the small pile of doxies that Ron was allowing to accumulate on the floor. "Speaking of, how about cleaning up after yourself, Ron?"

Ron just shrugged and continued with his apathetic spraying. Ginny released a low growl at being so ignored and knocked him roughly out of the way with her shoulder.

"Boys," she muttered, bending over to pinch a doxy's wings. A second later, the red-head was standing up abruptly with a curse, cradling her hand to her chest. "Son of a bitch!"

"GINEVRA WEASLEY," Molly Weasley scolded from across the room.

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny murmured. She swayed briefly and stumbled into Maia. The older witch turned to look at her and frowned.

"Ginny, are you okay?"

"Bit me…" The younger girl's face was noticeably paler. Maia put her arm around Ginny in support and walked her over to where the Weasley matron was overseeing Fred and George in their extermination efforts.

"Mrs. Weasley, Ginny –"

"What did you do?!" Mrs. Weasley asked, taking in her daughter's pale complexion. She hustled over to the duo and took Ginny into her own arms.

Maia gritted her teeth and released a hard breath. Speaking over the young witch's weak attempts in her defense, she explained, "Ginny was bitten by a doxy that must not have been fully dosed. Do we have any antivenin? I can go retrieve it."

"I'll take her to be treated," Mrs. Weasley said. "Fred, George, help me carry your sister. Ron, come grab this bucket here so that we can dispose of this batch. Harry… _Hermione_ …finish up with that curtain over there; I'll send someone up to help you dispose of them. Once that's settled, everyone go clean up for dinner."

"Mum, Ginny hardly requires two of us –"

" _Fred_ ," Mrs. Weasley said, her nostrils flaring. Fred rolled his eyes. To prove a point, he bent slightly and picked Ginny up, bridal style. George crossed his arms and shook his head at his twin's actions behind their mother's back.

"Lead the way, Mum," Fred said, a look of faux innocence on his face.

"Hey, Mum, I'll stay and help Harry and Hermione. It's kinda my fault –"

Molly Weasley spun on her heel and planted her hands on her ample hips. Sparks were beginning to fly from the end of her wand in a visual demonstration of her agitation. Harry heard Ron gulp at the look on her face.

"Right," he muttered, stepping forward to retrieve the bucket filled by the twins. Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he gave a half-hearted shrug and said, "I'll just see you in a bit, then."

Maia purposely ignored the hesitant look that Molly shot back to Harry, but the latter didn't. Harry clenched his jaw and turned pointedly back to Ron's pile of half-dosed doxies. At his obvious dismissal, the Weasley matron followed her horde of children out of the room. Maia and Harry could both hear her fading voice directing Fred to take Ginny down to the kitchen.

"Don't let it get to you, Harry," Maia said with a sigh, lifting her leaking bottle to complete their assigned task.

"It's not right," he replied mutinously. "If you wanted to do anything to any one of us, you would have done it already."

Maia gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, kneeling to pick up the comatose pests and depositing them in the remaining bucket. "My former actions may one day be considered justified as necessary for the greater good, but I'm not innocent, Harry. I don't blame them for their caution." Sitting back on her heels, she looked up at her godson and offered a real smile. "I'm just grateful to have you on my side."

Harry flushed and rubbed his free hand on the back of his neck self-consciously with a grin. With a limp wave of his bottle-filled hand, he drew her attention to the saturated drapes. "Think there's any hope left for these?"

Maia snorted a laugh, taking in the sight of the faded green, paisley-patterned material. Shaking her head, she replied, "None, though even in their prime, I don't think they did much for the overall decor."

Both turned at the sound of slow, scuffled footsteps entering the room. Harry looked on curiously as Kreacher made his shuffling way over to a glass bureau in the back corner of the room, while Maia's eyes narrowed at the elderly creature, having been unaware that Grimmauld Place employed a House Elf. The state of his dirty loincloth and bloodshot eyes suggested that it had been some time since he last bothered to care for himself, let alone the house.

"…group of Blood Traitors invading the Noble House of Black, mocking the home of my mistress, my poor mistress, what would she say to Kreacher?"

Though the elf continued to mumble to himself, it became indistinguishable to the duo by the curtains. Maia turned to Harry and asked, "Does Bla-…Sirius…know of this?"

"That Kreacher's been coming in to filch stuff after we leave the room for cleaning? Sure," Harry responded with the shrug. "He reckons that he's been hoarding it in his cupboard."

"No," Maia responded, rising to her feet and waving her hand in the direction of the elf who was going through the glass bureau. "I realize that you don't have much experience with House Elves, Harry, but this isn't a normal state for them. They take pride in their work for their family and their home. He's not taking care of himself, let alone the house!"

Harry looked on at her curiously, one brow raised incredulously. "This coming from the founder of spew?"

"S.P.E.W., Harry," Maia replied with a blush. Pointedly pushing her finger into the young wizard's chest, she firmly stated, "You can't hold that against me. I didn't have all the information; it's not as though the relationship between elves and their bonded families is well-documented. The only ones to typically hold an elf-bond are Pureblood families, and the information is already known. What reason is there to write it down?" Though, now that she thought about it, her experience as a Muggle-born and the lack of knowledge on traditional wizarding customs had shown her that it was something that probably _should_ be addressed at some point. She knew that she hadn't been the only one to struggle adjusting to Hogwarts four years ago. Ah, well; that would have to come later. Priorities.

Harry saw Kreacher pause in retrieving an antique silver locket to glance, rather obviously, at them from the corner of his eye. "Is Hermione Granger admitting she was wrong about something?"

"Hermione Granger is rarely wrong. In this case, she was merely uninformed," Maia retorted, speaking of her alternate identity as if she wasn't Hermione, herself. "While the methods utilized were a bit unrealistic, the sentiment behind them _is_ sound. The relationship between wizards and elves is a symbiotic one, for all that it has the apparent trappings of slavery for those who don't understand it. Elves do not have full access to their magic, which negatively affects their health and lifespan, unless they are bound to an established wizarding family or institution. The build-up of magic over generations helps to sustain them, and they, in turn, assist their bonded families or institutions with maintaining and promoting the growth of their House."

Maia held a hand up to stall Harry's passionate response. "I realize that isn't what you saw with Dobby. Lucius treated Dobby abysmally, and it showed in the way he lashed out. Rather than work with his family, he chose to make a personal sacrifice to assist you. It hurt him – in more than just orders of self-harm – to betray the Malfoy family, and it says much that he was willing to risk his well-being with freedom." What she didn't say was that she suspected Dobby's treatment to be a result of her own disappearance. Dobby had been assigned as her personal elf, and his inability to locate her would have angered Lucius and Abraxas to no end. That he didn't respond to her casual use of his name now hurt a little, but she couldn't blame the elf for staying away.

"What does that have to do with Kreacher?" Harry asked, eyeing the wizened elf who was clearly eavesdropping. "From what you've said, he's bonded to an established family. Why do you say he isn't normal?"

"Bonded as intimately as they are to their family's magic, Kreacher's state is a reflection of the decline of the House of Black. Sirius is the last full-blooded male of the Black family; not only does he despise it, but there doesn't appear to be any indication that he intends to help build his family back up and so the familial magic is fading. The reduction in magic, and the significant drop in living members from what used to be a highly prolific House, reflects in the state of the elf through the bond.

"The only other males who might lay claim to the Black name, thus reestablishing the line, are you and Draco. As you are both the sole remaining heirs to your respective families, the Black family will die out with Sirius if he doesn't put in more effort."

Harry startled and looked at her wide-eyed. "What do you mean, I could claim the Black name?"

Maia bent down to grab the handle of their full bucket and tossed her leaking bottle on top of the unconscious pests. "Your grandmother was a Black. Dorea, if I recall correctly."

"You are," came a gruff voice from the open door. Maia and Harry turned to see Sirius looking neutrally at the pair. Turning to Harry, he gave a small smile in remembrance and pride. "Your grandmother was technically my great-aunt, on my mother's side, but she was far more of a mother to me than my own ever was. I can't stand most of my family, but there have been some notable exceptions. Dorea Potter, Merlin bless her, was one of the best witches I ever knew."

Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "She was a Black from your mother's side?"

Patting Harry lightly on the back, Maia shrugged and stated, "All Purebloods are related in one way or another. The Blacks just didn't show the same reluctance to avoid cousins."

Sirius arched a heavy brow in her direction. "Not to condone the behavior, but as I recall, your family has been part of the same candidate pool for several hundred years, Malfoy."

"You're really going to need to get over calling me that, _Sirius_ , if this scheme is going to work," Maia retorted sharply. "And did I not just say that _all_ Purebloods were interrelated? I will say, however, that at least _we_ had to the foresight to look outside the British community for new blood when it was warranted."

"Oh, yeah," Sirius drawled, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. "I do seem to recall an announcement about your marriage contract. What was that…sixth year? Quite the lengthy engagement you've got going there. I'm sure your fiancé would be _happy_ to share his room in Azkaban with his blushing bride."

"Sod off, Black," Maia snapped, her face flushing in her anger. "You should be grateful. It could have been _you_."

Sirius barked out a laugh while Harry looked on uneasily between the two. Maia's face settled into a vindictive smile. "Don't believe me? I'm sure that Kreacher can verify what I am saying is true. Perhaps it was just a ploy to try to get my father in her bed, but your mother was _most_ adamant about tying our two Houses through marriage. Abraxas was reluctant to align himself so firmly with the notoriously mad Black family – Lucius's marriage to Narcissa was one thing, but two intimate ties? I suppose I should thank him –"

"He's dead," Sirius sneered interruptingly, standing up. He couldn't help but feel slightly offended, even if he would have fought tooth and nail against such a proposition in his youth. "I fear your appreciation for avoiding such a _repulsive_ match would be rather lost on him, now."

Though he chose to ignore the muttering from Kreacher in the corner where the elf was hoarsely berating the seething witch for her slander against "his mistress," Sirius did recognize that her words apparently had some merit if his mad ramblings could be given any credit. Thank _fuck_ that contract hadn't gone through, or he might already be married to this harpy. Perhaps he could give those thanks to his mother's portrait and watch her choke on his gratitude. Could portraits choke?

Maia swayed slightly in shock; it was only Harry's hands on her shoulders that kept her upright at all. In the time that she had been "back," she had not thought to look up her family. She knew that Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco were all living and doing well due to her interactions with them as Hermione Granger, but she had neither seen nor heard news of the Malfoy patriarch. He was just barely entering his prime when she last saw him, so what reason would she have for assuming that he'd be anything other than the healthy tyrant she knew him to be? For all that she rather resented Abraxas Malfoy – the way he raised her after her mother passed, the decisions he made on her behalf and that of their family – the fact remained that he was still her father. The rather callous delivery certainly didn't help her begin to process it.

Sirius wasn't sure how to take her reaction. He knew that he'd had his own curious issues at learning that his mother had passed within a few years of his incarceration – thoughts of torturing her portrait, aside – but he put it down to having never gotten full closure with the hateful bitch. Malfoy's ambivalent remarks about her family had suggested that there was no love lost between father and daughter, but the stunned look on her face at learning of his demise implied otherwise. Though he had lashed out in the moment – something Moony would undoubtedly remind him was one of his less-than-endearing qualities – he hadn't _actually_ thought he would hurt her.

Feeling uncomfortable with thoughts that her reaction was dredging up, Sirius opted to taunt her in a poor attempt of returning to the status quo. Her anger, though not something he'd been exposed to that often before now, was something he could handle. "You do realize that this is a good thing, don't you? One less supporter for You-Know-Who, which – if you're to be believed – you would find a good thing."

Maia's eyes flashed dangerously as she shook off Harry's hands and stomped toward the raven-haired wizard. Invading his personal space, she stared up at him with a derisive sneer worthy of any Malfoy as she thrust the doxy-filled bucket into his chest, _hard_. Sirius fumbled to gain control of it for a moment, causing a few of the doxies to spill out and the leaking bottle to hit his chest before tumbling to the floor. "I get that you may have wanted nothing to do with _your_ family, much as I know it hurt Regulus, but I'm not so fickle that I would completely abandon _mine_ had I another option."

Maia didn't waste any time in fleeing from the room, eager to put distance between herself and the infuriating Marauder. Raising her hand to wipe her eye where she felt tears beginning to form, she quickly dropped it again at the harsh smell of the Doxycide. With a slightly hysterical laugh that forced a tear to escape, Maia rushed up the stairs to the third floor and down the hall for the loo, where she hoped to find the space to regain her composure and reduce the smell lingering on her skin.

Throwing open the door, subconsciously grateful to find it unoccupied since she hadn't bothered to knock in her haste, Maia rushed to the sink and turned the knob to get the water flowing. For minutes she held her hands under the water, distantly aware that she was burning her skin under the scalding stream. Perhaps if the water was hot enough, it could wash away all the bad. The unexpected news about her father, the distrust by the Order, that _damn_ potion that she could still smell wafting from her hands…

"Burning your skin to blisters. Huh. I don't think that's going to get you out of tomorrow's clean-up duty, Granger."

The sudden voice cutting through the sound of water gurgling down the ancient drain pipes caused Maia to start with surprise. Looking over her shoulder, she found the openly amused face of a ginger twin observing her. With a smile that barely managed to reach her eyes, she stated, "At least someone can get it right." Finally noting the bright red hue of her hands, she reached up to turn off the rusted faucet before turning back to the door. Waving her hand to the sink, she asked, "Did you need it, too?"

George looked pointedly between her scarlet hands and the sink, before waving his hands as if to ward her off. "Thanks, but no. I can think of much better ways to skive off chores than a self-scalding. Mum's temper isn't _that_ bad."

Wiping her wet hands gingerly on the towel hanging by the sink, she cocked her head and said, "Your mum would be _spitting_ if she knew you were up here alone with me. I did promise her, after all…"

"Yeah, yeah," George rolled his eyes with a shrug. "I believe promises were also exchanged to keep us in the dark…"

" _I_ didn't say anything," Maia replied smartly.

George grinned at her and winked. "Just like you did not purposely seek out to be alone with me. Though if you did…" The ginger wizard wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Maia released a short laugh, her chest already feeling lighter for George's antics. "Thanks for the offer, but I've never been interested in younger men."

Dragging his eyes slowly from the top of her head to her feet and back, George gave Maia a flirty grin. "I don't know. I wouldn't say that I'm _that_ much younger…"

Maia rolled her eyes and gently shoved the twin out of her way as she made to exit the washroom. "Perhaps not _physically_ , but you've got about four more years before you could catch up mentally. Then again," she said, looking at the playful glint in his blue eyes, "I'd say that your display of certain Marauder-like mischief knocks you down a few more years."

George released a loud laugh as he swung his left arm over her shoulders, easily falling into step next to her as they made their way toward the stairs. "I'm not sure whether to feel complimented or insulted."

"Both, if you truly feel it necessary to see it as a compliment," Maia replied blithely. Not wishing to explain her less-than-positive opinions of the twins' idols, she changed the subject. "I'm assuming that Ginny is fully recovered?"

"'Course," he said nonchalantly. "Witch like her? It'd take more than a doxy bite to keep her down. Might need to try to collect some of that venom, though…wonder if we could use it in the snack boxes…?" The last was said more quietly, as if he were making a mental note.

_Snack boxes, huh? Those were new._ Maia looked at the pondering wizard at her side and knew that this would be a good chance to feel him out regarding her own proposition. Turning her gaze forward again as they began descending the second set of stairs that would take them to the main floor, she casually observed, "I suppose those Triwizard winnings were helpful in procuring new ingredients, if you're already working on new products."

Maia kept walking down a few stairs beyond the point in which she'd felt George's arm drop off. Turning back up to look at him over her shoulder, she noted genuine concern on his face. Arching one brow in mild admonishment, she commented, "You all aren't nearly as sly as you think you are."

"And what would it take to keep such information between us, Granger?" George asked cautiously.

Maia shrugged casually. "I'm not telling anyone, regardless of what you may or may not do for me. Rather proud of Harry, to be honest. Just like his mother."

George began a rapid descent to catch up with her and, together, they continued their leisurely downward trek. "Why mention it, then? If there's one thing I know about Slytherins, it's that they don't do something for nothing."

"If you'd paid attention to the story, I'm sure it was mentioned that it was my House only by necessity."

"Right," George drawled. "And I'm sure that you were a prime example of a lioness in the snake den."

Maia grinned as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. "I did pick up a trick or two, now that you mention it; however, there was a reason for my inquiry."

"Naturally," George replied sarcastically, crossing his arms while looking at her with curiosity.

Maia mimicked his pose and leaned back against the bannister for support. Glancing around briefly to ensure they were still alone, Maia looked at the budding entrepreneur and said, "I'd like to make you – and Fred – an offer, one that I think would be of mutual benefit to all involved parties."

The corners of George's mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile at her formal introduction. "Go on…"

"I don't know how much was conveyed about my 'Hermione' guise…"

"Not much," he replied with a slight shrug. "Not sure Harry was fully paying attention to that part, given the other revelations, Madam Godmother." Looking at her filled out form, he humorously noted, "However, we had noticed that _something_ changed; rather favorably, I might add."

With her pinched lips and arched brow, George could tell that she was not amused. "Err…right. 'Hermione' guise. You were saying?"

Maia sighed. "What I'm left with, now, is not going to be sustainable once we return to Hogwarts. I need to find a – semi-permanent – solution that will permit me to go about my routine as normal without having to worry about…unexpected interruptions."

"I see," George replied, his eyes narrowing as he processed her unsaid words. "And where do we fit in?"

"By putting your creative thinking to the task to help me design said solution," Maia said. "I'd be more than willing to compensate you both for your assistance. Perhaps in the form of a silent partner?"

"I rather prefer my partners to offer _some_ verbal affirmations that they're satisfied with my work, but I suppose it's something we could discuss further." He held out his hand to seal the initial deal, a gesture that Maia took immediately. "Don't suppose you've figured a way around Mum, have you?"

Maia cringed at the reminder of the red-haired matron. "Who is it that supervises the study hours?"

"It varies," came a calm voice from the front parlor. The interruption caused the two on the stairs to turn abruptly to face the unknown party. "And to think that you accused others of being too obvious. I expected more from you, Miss Granger."

_Well, if that wasn't a little embarrassing._ The blush that filled her cheeks was an automatic response at having been caught by the two Marauders. Though Black wouldn't look at her directly, she thought she could _almost_ detect a hint of amusement glinting in Lupin's green eyes. _Okay, how would Hermione react?_ "Hello, Professor."

Lupin's neutral-friendly mask morphed to surprise for just a moment, before settling back into polite indifference. "I believe that I've mentioned before that I'm no longer your professor, Miss Granger. You can call me Remus."

_At least_ one _of them could act!_ Maia thought with an internal snort. "Then you'll have to call me Hermione. Only my professors call me 'Miss Granger,' and I may have some difficulty remembering, otherwise."

"Of course, Hermione," Remus replied smoothly.

When no one spoke or moved for a minute, George shifted his weight from one foot to the other, causing the stair beneath his feet to creak. "I think I'm going to see where Mum is with dinner. She'd mentioned it was almost ready…was why I came looking for you, actually, when Harry came down solo…"

"Thanks, George," Maia said with a small smile. "We'll talk more later, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Granger," George said, presenting a sharp salute in departure.

"Is it your intention to get those boys in trouble with their mother? You do know that she won't support this," Black stated bluntly. Internally, he cringed at his accusation. He was still feeling uneasy over their earlier discussion, but he couldn't seem to help challenging the witch in some fashion.

"I need help," Maia retorted sharply, her hands clenching on the stair rail in front of her. "I don't have a wand, and I don't see any Order members leaping forward to assist. Fred and George are creative, and their products have true potential. Why _wouldn't_ I seek them out?"

"You do realize that you're merely settling for the copies when the originals are right here, don't you?" Black asked with a sharp smirk. "Not to belittle the Weasley twins, of course; they are inventive."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" the witch asked with a huff and a glare, feeling the need to clarify the raven-haired Maurader's statement before jumping to the twins' defense.

"Well, you are looking at two of the creators of the Marauder's Map. That's hardly first year magic." Black looked rather smug, to her eyes, at the mention of their own creation.

"Ah, yes," Maia said sarcastically, crossing her arms, "The map that invades everyone's privacy." _Hypocrite_ , she thought, knowing that she'd used it plenty with Harry over the last year. "Was that _your_ idea, Sirius? Wouldn't surprise me if it was. It would certainly make it easier to avoid running into one conquest while you were out shagging another."

"Your jealously is showing again, Mal-… _Hermione_." The tone to his voice when he said her assumed name could easily be interpreted as, "See! I _can_ remember your name!" Though he was sure that Remus was getting a mite concerned over the verbal sparring, Sirius found himself almost enjoying the banter. _Almost_. Not that he would ever admit it aloud.

Maia scoffed before widening her eyes and feigning a demeanor of confused innocence. "What are you insinuating, Mr. Black? You aren't suggesting that I…but I'm just a student…and you…you're so _old_ …"

Even Remus cringed mentally with that charge. The years had not been kind to any of the remaining Marauders, and that observation was certainly a reminder that self-care had not been a priority (or even a possibility for some).

Maia smirked to see Black spluttering at her repost. Taking the final step down so that she stood firmly in the front foyer, she quietly imparted, "The next time I want my hallways mapped, I'll be sure to call you. For now, I believe I'll stick with the copies."

Remus coughed and felt his cheeks burn at the double entendre while Sirius looked after the small witch, speechless, as she turned her back and walked away to join the rest of Grimmauld's residents in the kitchen for dinner.


End file.
